t myself long ago--by
my music. That's what I wanted."

"Well, you didn't get what you wanted. Women seldom do."

"I want to go to the Tanquerays. There's no reason why I shouldn't
get that."

"You can't go to the Tanquerays as you are."

Minnie gazed at her clothes, then at her reflection in the opposite
looking-glass.

She wore a shabby, low-necked gown of some bluish-green stuff, with
a collar of coarse lace; also a string of iridescent shells. Under
the flame of her hair her prettiness showed haggard and forlorn.

"Yes, you may well look at yourself. You must have new things if you
go. That means breaking into five pounds."

Minnie's eyes were still fixed on the face in the looking-glass.

"It would be worth it," said she.

"It might be if you stopped five months. Not unless."

"Look here, Kate. It's all very well, but I consider that the house
owes me that five pounds. Mayn't I have it, Stephen or no Stephen?"

"It's no use asking me now. It will depend on Stephen."

"And Stephen, I imagine, will depend on us."

"Probably. Do you hear what Minnie says, Mother?"

The old woman's hands knitted fiercely, while her sharp yellow face
crumpled into an expression half peevish, half resigned.

"I hear what you both say, and I think I've got enough to worry me
without you talking about Stephen coming home."

Her voice was so thin that even Minnie, not hearing, had missed the
point. As for the man outside, he was still struggling with emotion,
and had caught but a word here and there.

Kate's voice was jagged like a saw and carried farther. It was now
that he really began to hear.

"Do you suppose he's made any money out there?"

"Did you ever hear of Stephen making money anywhere?"

"If he has he ought to be made to pay something to the housekeeping.
It's only fair."

"If he's made anything," said Minnie, "he's spent it all. That's why
he's coming. Look at the supper!"

The table before her was laid for the evening meal. She pointed to
the heels of two loaves, a knuckle of ham, a piece of cheese, and
some water in a glass jug. Oatmeal simmered on a reeking oil-stove
in a corner of the room.

"How much will it cost to keep him?"

Kate's narrow, peaked face was raised in calculation. Kate's eyes
became mean homes for meaner thoughts of which she was visibly
unashamed.

"Ten shillings a week at the very least. Fifty-two weeks--that's
twenty-six pounds a year. Or probably fifteen shillings--a ma