etter to _you_--perhaps a cheeky sort of
letter, which would at once set your mind at ease.'

'Oh, if you really take that view--'

'I do indeed. Don't you think we might dismiss the matter, and dine?'

They did so.

Until noon of to-day, Mrs. Peachey had kept her bed, lying amid the
wreck wrought by last night's madness. She then felt well enough to
rise, and after refreshment betook herself by cab to the offices of
Messrs Ducker, Blunt & Co., manufacturers of disinfectants, where she
conversed with one of the partners, and learnt that her husband had
telegraphed his intention to be absent for a day or two. Having, with
the self-respect which distinguished her, related her story from the
most calumnious point of view, she went home again to nurse her headache
and quarrel with Fanny. But Fanny had in the meantime left home,
and, unaccountable fact, had taken with her a large tin box and a
dress-basket; heavily packed, said the servants. Her direction to the
cabman was merely Westminster Bridge, which conveyed to Mrs. Peachey no
sort of suggestion.

When Beatrice came back, and learnt this event, she went apart in
wrathful gloom. Ada could not engage her in a quarrel. It was a
wretchedly dull evening.

They talked next morning, and Beatrice announced her purpose of going
to live by herself as soon as possible. But she would not quarrel. Left
alone, Ada prepared to visit certain of their relatives in different
parts of London, to spread among them the news of her husband's infamy.

CHAPTER 6

When Mary Woodruff unlocked the house-door and entered the little hall,
it smelt and felt as though the damp and sooty fogs of winter still
lingered here, untouched by the July warmth. She came alone, and
straightway spent several hours in characteristic activity--airing,
cleaning, brightening. For a few days there would be no servant; Mary,
after her long leisure down in Cornwall, enjoyed the prospect of doing
all the work herself. They had reached London last evening, and had
slept at a family hotel, where Nancy remained until the house was in
order for her.

Unhappily, their arrival timed with a change of weather, which brought
clouds and rain. The glories of an unshadowed sky would have little
more than availed to support Nancy's courage as she passed the creaking
little gate and touched the threshold of a home to which she returned
only on compulsion; gloom overhead, and puddles underfoot, tried her
spirit so