‘I suppose I can come to see you, can’t I?’

’Come to see me!  Likely!  When did you come last?  You’re a ungrateful beast, that’s what you are!’

‘All right.  Go a’ead!  Anything else you’d like to call me?’

Mrs. Peckover was hurt by the completeness with which Clem had established her independence.  To do the woman justice, she had been actuated, in her design of capturing Joseph Snowdon, at least as much by a wish to establish her daughter satisfactorily as by the ever-wakeful instinct which bade her seize whenever gain lay near her clutches.  Clem was proving disloyal, had grown secretive.  Mrs. Peckover did not look for any direct profit worth speaking of from the marriage she had brought about, but she did desire the joy of continuing to plot against Joseph with his wife.  Moreover, she knew that Clem was a bungler, altogether lacking in astuteness, and her soul was pained by the thought of chances being missed.  Her encounter with the lodger had wrought her up to the point at which she could discuss matters with Clem frankly.  The two abused each other for a while, but Clem really desired to communicate her news, so that calmer dialogue presently ensued.

’Old Snowdon’s had a stroke, if you’d like to know, and it’s my belief he won’t get over it.’

’Your belief!  And what’s your belief worth?  Had a stroke, has he?  Who told you?’

’I’ve just come from the ‘ouse.  Jo’s stoppin’ there.’

They discussed the situation in all its aspects, but Mrs. Peckover gave it clearly to be understood that, from her point of view, ’the game was spoilt.’  As long as Joseph continued living under her roof she could in a measure direct the course of events; Clem had chosen to abet him in his desire for removal, and if ill came of it she had only herself to blame.

‘I can look out for myself,’ said Clem.

‘Can you?  I’m glad to hear it.’

And Mrs. Peckover sniffed the air, scornfully.  The affectionate pair dined together, each imbibing a pint and a half of ’mild and bitter,’ and Clem returned to Hanover Street.  From Joseph she could derive no information as to the state of the patient.

‘If you will stay here, where you can do no good,’ he said, ’sit down and keep quiet.’

‘Certainly I shall stay,’ said his wife, ’because I know you want to get rid of me.’

Joseph left her in the sitting-room, and went upstairs again to keep his daughter company.  Jane would not leave the bedside.  To enter the room, after an interval elsewhere, wrung her feelings too painfully; better to keep her eyes fixed on the unmoving form, to overcome the dread by facing it.