followed,
and Jonah listened while Clara tried to beat the salesman down below
catalogue price for cash. Here was a woman after his own heart, who
could drive a bargain with the best of them. At the end of half an
hour Jonah filled in a cheque for eighty guineas, and the salesman,
reading the signature, bowed them deferentially out of the shop.

Clara walked out of the shop with the air of a millionaire. To be
brought in contact even for a moment with this golden stream of
sovereigns excited her like wine. All her life she had desired things
whose price put them beyond her reach, and she felt suddenly friendly
to this man who took what he wanted regardless of cost. She thought
pleasantly of the ride home in the cab, but she was pulled up with a
jerk when Jonah led the way to the tram. He wore an anxious look, as
if he had spent more than he could afford, and yet the money was a mere
flea-bite to him. But whenever he spent money, a panic terror seized
him--a survival of the street-arab's instinct, who counted his money in
pennies instead of pounds.

CHAPTER 14

ADA MAKES A FRIEND

Ada moved uneasily, opened her eyes and stared at the patch of light on
the opposite wall. As she lay half awake, she tried to remember the
day of the week, and, deceived by the morning silence, decided that it
was Sunday. She thought, with lazy pleasure, that a day of idleness
lay before her, and felt under the pillow for the tin of lollies that
she hid there every night. This movement awakened her completely, and
stretching her limbs luxuriously between the warm sheets, she began to
suck the lollies, at first slowly revolving the sticky globules on her
tongue, and then scrunching them between her firm teeth with the
tranquil pleasure of a quadruped.

This was her only pleasure and the only pleasant hour of the day. She
looked at Jonah, who lay on his side with his nose buried in the
pillow, without repugnance and without liking. That had gone long ago.
And as she looked, she remembered that he was to be awakened early and
that it was Friday the hardest day of the week, when she must make up
her arrears of scrubbing and dusting. Her luxurious mood changed to
one of dull irritation, and she looked sullenly at the enormous
wardrobe and dressing-table with their speckled mirrors. These had
delighted her at first, but in her heart she preferred the battered,
makeshift furniture of Cardigan Street. A few licks with t