xactly like Mrs. Maldon, he was
convinced that he was old only by the misleading arithmetic of years,
that he was not really old, and that there was a subtle and vital
difference between all other people of his age and himself. As for
Mrs. Maldon, he regarded her as a mere poor relic of an organism.

"At our age," Mrs. Maldon began, and paused as if collecting her
thoughts.

"At our age! At our age!" he repeated, sharply deprecating the phrase.

"At our age," said Mrs. Maldon, with slow insistence, "we ought not to
be hard on others. We ought to be thinking of our own sins."

But, although Mrs. Maldon was perhaps the one person on earth whom he
both respected and feared, Thomas Batchgrew listened to her injunction
only with rough disdain. He was incapable of thinking of his own sins.
While in health, he was nearly as unaware of sin as an animal.

Nevertheless, he turned uneasily in the silence of the pale room, so
full of the shy and prim refinement of Mrs. Maldon's individuality.
He could talk morals to others in the grand manner, and with positive
enjoyment, but to be sermonized himself secretly exasperated him
because it constrained him and made him self-conscious. Invariably,
when thus attacked, he would execute a flank movement.

He said bluntly--

"And I suppose ye'll let him marry this Rachel girl if he's a mind
to!"

Slowly a deep flush covered Mrs. Maldon's face.

"What makes you say that?" she questioned, with rising agitation.

"I have but just seen 'em together."

Mrs. Maldon moved nervously in the bed.

"I should never forgive myself if I stood by and let Louis marry
Rachel," she said, and there was a sudden desperate urgency in her
voice.

"Isn't she good enough for a nephew o' yours?"

"She's good enough for any man," said Mrs. Maldon quietly.

"Then it's him as isna' good enough! And yet, if he's got such a good
side to him as ye say--" Mr. Batchgrew snorted.

"He's not suited to her--not at all."

"Now, missis," said Mr. Batchgrew in triumph, "at last we're getting
down to your real opinion of young Fores."

"I feel I'm responsible for Rachel, and--What ought I to do about it?"

"Do? What can a body do when a respectable young woman wi' red hair
takes a fancy to a youth? Nowt, Elizabeth. That young woman'll marry
Louis Fores, and ye can take it from me."

"But why do you say a thing like that? I only began to notice anything
myself last night."

"She's lost her head over him,