a vision of future terrors.  She had legal rights, of course.  Her common sense told her that.  She remembered also that she possessed a father and a brother in America.  But no legal rights and no relatives would avail against the mere simple, negligent irresponsibility of Louis.  In the end, she would have to rely on herself.  All at once she recollected that she had promised to see after Julian’s curtains.

She had almost no money.  And how could the admiration of three men other than her husband (so enheartening a few minutes earlier) serve her in the crisis?  No amount of masculine admiration could mitigate the crudity of the fact that she had almost no money.  Louis’ illness had interrupted the normal course of domestic finance—­if, indeed, a course could be called normal which had scarcely begun.  Louis had not been to the works.  Hence he had received no salary.  And how much salary was due to him, and whether he was paid weekly or monthly, she knew not.  Neither did she know whether his inheritance actually had been paid over to him by Thomas Batchgrew.

What she knew was that she had received no house-keeping allowance for more than a week, and that her recent payments to tradesmen had been made from a very small remaining supply of her own prenuptial money.  Economically she was as dependent on Louis as a dog, and not more so; she had the dog’s right to go forth and pick up a living....  Of course Louis would send her money.  Louis was a gentleman—­he was not a cad.  Yes, but he was a very careless gentleman.  She was once again filled with the bitter realization of his extreme irresponsibility.

She heard a noise in the back lobby, and started.  It was Mrs. Tams, returned.  Mrs. Tams had a key of her own, of which she was proud—­an affair of about four inches in length and weighing over a quarter of a pound.  It fitted the scullery door, and was, indeed, the very key with which Rachel had embroidered her lie to Thomas Batchgrew on the day after the robbery.  Mrs. Tams always took pleasure in entering the house from the rear, without a sound.  She was now coming into the parlour with the tray for high tea.  No wonder that Rachel started.  Here was the first onset of the outer world.

Mrs. Tams came in, already perfectly transformed from a mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother into a parlour-maid with no human tie.

“Good-afternoon, Mrs. Tams.”

“So ye’ve got back, ma’am!”

While Mrs. Tams laid the table, with many grunts and creakings of the solid iron in her stays, Rachel sat on a chair by the fire, trying to seem in a casual, dreamy mood, cogitating upon what she must say.

“Will mester be down for tea, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Tams, who had excusably assumed that Louis was upstairs.

And Rachel, forced now to defend, instead of attacking, blurted out—­

“Oh!  By the way, I was forgetting; Mr. Fores will not be in for tea.”