Her lips twisted themselves up in a way I didn't like.

'There was nothing wonderful in that. You might have married any one you liked, if you had known how to play your cards, my dear.' She kept looking at the likenesses, one after the other. 'He makes a good photograph; he comes out well in all of them. And in appearance, he doesn't seem to have materially changed.'

'He hasn't changed one bit since the day that first I saw him.'

When she'd seen all the likenesses she began to tap against the table with the edge of one, as if she was turning something over in her mind.

'Mary?'

'Yes, miss.'

'Don't call me miss. Call me--well, there'll be time enough for that.'

She smiled--though what at I could not say. 'What should you do if you met with a sudden change of fortune?'

'I shouldn't mind being poorer, with James.'

'I don't mean in that direction, but in the other. What should you say at being richer?'

'Thank you, miss.'

She laughed.

'Is that all?'

'Of course, I should say more than that. But I couldn't tell you what I should say till it happens. It depends. And I'm afraid I'm not much good at saying anyhow. Of course, the money would be welcome.'

'For what?'

'All sorts of things. Everything seems to cost more as time goes on.

As the children grow up they cost more. Then I want to send them to a proper school--and not to a Board School, where you pay nothing. I want them to be educated like gentlefolk's children--so that they may grow up to be like their father, and not like me.'

'They may grow up to be ashamed of their mother.'

'Never. I love them too much ever to be afraid of that.'

'You're a lucky woman.'

'I know I'm lucky.'

'Which makes your luck still greater. Do you know that since I've been in this room it's grown upon me more and more that you're one of those persons on whom the G.o.ds shower fortune.'

'I'm glad to hear it, miss--though I don't know what you mean.'

'You queer child! With how much more money could you do?'

'Well, I can hardly say. You see, James is very generous. He gives me a good three pounds a week, and often more.'

'Three pounds a week! What would you say to three pounds a day?'

'Three pounds a day!' I stared. 'Of course, I know that there are people who have that amount of money, but I don't know what use it would be to me--unless it was for James.'

'I see. Always James?'

'Yes, miss, always James.'

She eyed me sharply, as if she wasn't sure what it was I meant. Though I don't know what I'd said that wasn't plain. All this time she'd had the children on her knee. Now she put them down and began to walk about the room. I thought how tall she was; almost a head above me.

I've always wished I wasn't so little. I wished it more than ever when I saw how beautiful she was. The idea of her comparing herself with me was too ridiculous.

After a time she began to talk again; still moving about.

'Mary, I want to ask you something else, and think before you answer.--Did I understand you to say yesterday that your husband enjoys good health?'

'Always, miss. He's never had an hour's illness since I've known him.'

'You're sure of it?'

'Quite sure, miss.'

'He hasn't, for instance, to your knowledge, a weak heart?'

'A weak heart? He's nothing of the kind. He's strong as strong can be.

I'm sure of it.'

'Does he look well?'

'The picture of health.'

'On that Sunday morning, when you last saw him, was he looking well when he went out?'

'Perfectly well.'

'And he was well?'

'As well as well could be.'

'And you say he wasn't liable to sudden attacks of illness?'

'Nothing of the kind. Who's been telling you stories about my James?'

'Then the only thing I can say is that I don't understand it in the least.'

She seemed to be speaking to herself rather than to me; and it's not for me to pretend that I know what she meant. The only thing I know is that what I said was clear enough. She went back to the table and began looking through James's photographs again, examining them that closely you'd have thought they were puzzles.

'It's impossible that there can be any mistake; impossible. And yet, how can he have gone out in perfect health upon the Sunday, and--It's beyond my comprehension. There's a knot somewhere which wants unpicking. Do you know I'm inclined to think that you know even less about your husband than you suppose.'

'I know all I want to know.'

'I mean with reference to his health. I fancy that he had not such good health as you seem to imagine.'