MATTERS hung in suspense¹ for nearly a fortnight more after this very definitive² quarrel. Plainly Mr and Mrs Tewler had come to a breaking-point, but except For a very definite wish to hurt each other, neither of them had very lucid³ ideas for the next phase in this antagonism⁴. Edward Albert had that habit of indecision which the normal English training develops, and still he clung to some idea of a relapse on her part. She, for her part, had already made an indirect inquiry⁵ about her old business position and knew that she would be taken back there if she wanted it. She had been missed all the time. But that would reopen a relationship she had thought closed for ever. It wounded her pride to be dependent, on her husband any longer. She could go back to the old life and hold out, Edward Albert was not the only male upon the earth. Indeed no.

At the back of her mind she realised that it was she who had brought this unhappiness upon him, quite as much as upon herself. She hated him not only for his own sake but because it was her supreme⁶ blunder. It was hard to sustain her personal pride in the night against the gnawing⁷ realisation that she had snatched, that she had been a scheming fool. It was difficult to shift all that to his account. She would feel better about him if she could get square with him and then forget about him — forget about him altogether. But how was that to be done now? She had resisted any natural weakening towards the child, but it made a poor story for her if she did not do her duty by it. She had to feel there would be someone to care for it, and so she turned her thoughts and hopes towards Mrs Butter.

Matters were brought to a sudden crisis by an outbreak on the part of Edward Albert. In the dead of night the whole household was awakened⁸ by his beating and kicking at his wife’s locked door. “Let me in, you bitch,” he was shouting.

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