In those few words he perfectly explained his manner of announcing himself, endowing it with the highest propriety.  Rachel’s misgivings were soothed in an instant.  Her chief emotion was an ecstatic pride—­because he had come, because he could not keep away, because she had known that he would come, that he must come.  And in fact was it not his duty to come?  Quietly he came into the hall, quietly she closed the door, and when they were shut up together in the parlour they both spoke in hushed voices, lest the invalid should be disturbed.  And was not this, too, highly proper?

She gave him the news of the house and said that Mrs. Tams was taking duty in the sick-room till four o’clock in the morning, and herself thenceforward, but that the invalid gave no apparent cause for apprehension.

“Old Batch been again?” asked Louis, with a complete absence of any constraint.

She shook her head.

“You’ll find that money yet—­somewhere, when you’re least expecting it,” said he, almost gaily.

“I’m sure we shall,” she agreed with conviction.

“And how are you?” His tone became anxious and particular.  She blushed deeply, for the outbreak of which she had been guilty and which he had witnessed, then smiled diffidently.

“Oh, I’m all right.”

“You look as if you wanted some fresh air—­if you’ll excuse me saying so.”

“I haven’t been out to-day, of course,” she said.

“Don’t you think a walk—­just a breath—­would do you good!”

Without allowing herself to reflect, she answered—­

“Well, I ought to have gone out long ago to get some food for to-morrow, as it’s Sunday.  Everything’s been so neglected to-day.  If the doctor happened to order a cutlet or anything for Mrs. Maldon, I don’t know what I should do.  Truly I ought to have thought of it earlier.”

She seemed to be blaming herself for neglectfulness, and thus the enterprise of going out had the look of an act of duty.  Her sensations bewildered her.

“Perhaps I could walk down with you and carry parcels.  It’s a good thing it’s Saturday night, or the shops might have been closed.”

She made no answer to this, but stood up, breathing quickly.

“I’ll just speak to Mrs. Tams.”

Creeping upstairs, she silently pushed open the door of Mrs. Maldon’s bedroom.  The invalid was asleep.  Mrs. Tams, her hands crossed in her comfortable lap, and her mouth widely open, was also asleep.  But Mrs. Tams was used to waking with the ease of a dog.  Rachel beckoned her to the door.  Without a sound the fat woman crossed the room.

“I’m just going out to buy a few things we want,” said Rachel in her ear, adding no word as to Louis Fores.

Mrs. Tams nodded.

Rachel went to her bedroom, turned up the gas, straightened her hair, and put on her black hat, and her blue jacket trimmed with a nameless fur, and picked up some gloves and her purse.  Before descending she gazed at herself for many seconds in the small, slanting glass.  Coming downstairs, she took the marketing reticule from its hook in the kitchen passage.  Then she went back to the parlour and stood in the doorway, speechless, putting on her gloves rapidly.