cent victim was ever yet provided than poor, jaded Arthur in his suit
of other years. The thought in her mind was that it would not do for him
to look _too_ innocent. He must go--but not like that.

So, for three days of blinding labor, Aggie applied herself to the
propitiation of Mammon, the sending forth of her sacrificial lamb properly
decked for the sacrifice. There never had been such a hauling and
overhauling of clothes, such folding and unfolding, such stitching and
darning and cleansing and pressing, such dragging out and packing of heavy
portmanteaus, such a getting up of shirts that should be irreproachable.

Aggie did it all herself; she would trust no one, least of all the
laundress. She had only faint old visions of John Hurst's collars to guide
her; but she was upheld by an immense relief, born of her will to please,
and Arthur, by a blind reliance, born of his utter weariness. At times
these preparations well-nigh exasperated him. "If going meant all that
fuss," he said, "he'd rather not go." But if he had been told that
anything would happen to prevent his going, he would have sat down and
cursed or cried. His nerves clamored for change now--any change from the
office and the horrible yellow villa in Camden Town.

All of a sudden, at the critical moment, Aggie's energy showed signs of
slowing down, and it seemed to both of them that she would never get him
off.

Then, for the first time, he woke to a dreary interest in the packing. He
began to think of things for himself. He thought of a certain suit of
flannels which he must take with him, which Aggie hadn't cleaned or
mended, either. In his weak state, it seemed to him that his very going
depended on that suit of flannels. He went about the house inquiring
irritably for them. He didn't know that his voice had grown so fierce in
its quality that it scared the children; or that he was ordering Aggie
about like a dog; or that he was putting upon her bowed and patient back
burdens heavier than it should have borne. He didn't know what he was
doing.

And he did not know why Aggie's brain was so dull and her feet so slow,
nor why her hands, that were incessantly doing, seemed now incapable of
doing any one thing right. He did not know, because he was stupefied with
his own miserable sensations, and Aggie had contrived to hide from him
what Susie's sharp eyes had discovered. Besides, he felt that, in his
officially invalid capacity, a certain license was