But Roddick, in amongst his own perplexities, found time now and then for a sardonic grin, and a wonder as to how soon the climax would be reached. And the climax came sooner than he expected. CHAPTER IX. CONFESSION. Kate Strangeways, after her sudden collapse before Joe's accusation, nerved herself to the fight once more. Joe attempted to take up the same line on the next night, and was beaten; at heart he was afraid of her, because he knew her to be stronger, finer in breed, than himself. Then, gradually, he grew mortally sick of her, now that she showed so uncompromising a determination to stand on her own level. He conceived an idea, and soaked the idea in much strong ale until it mellowed. "When a gentleman born," said he to his mug, "when a gentleman born taks th' trouble to come aboon three miles i' search on a wench, he allus hes one notion. Well, I'll let 'em bide, that I will, an' I won't break th' bones i' his body, 'cos he's ower big for that kind o' marlaking. They shall just go their own foul gate, an' we'll see what'll come o' my fine lady's airs an' graces when this Lummax hes dragged her in th' mire. She puts up her high-bred nose, does she, when I get a bit on th' booze now and again? Well, it'll be six o' one an' half a dozen o' t' other sooin." So Kate, thanks to a resolve of which she guessed nothing, had a whole month's respite from her husband. He went out every night directly after tea, and rarely spoke to her during the few moments when they were together. She took the respite gladly, and flattered herself that the trouble with Griff was assuming no more alarming proportions as the days went on. Yet she wondered, and ached, and cried at rare intervals, just because he could maintain his friendly attitude so easily; freely would she have forgiven him if he had faltered once or twice in well-doing. "Shall we go to Peewit to-morrow? I promised to take Kate some books," said Mrs. Lomax to Griff, one evening, as they sat in their favourite nook by the parlour fire. "You oughtn't to, with that cold of yours. Why will you never look after yourself, mother?" "Don't coddle me, Griff. My cold must be driven out by some good frosty air; the walk will do me good." But she was worse on the next morning, and Griff put his foot down in a way that even his mother understood. He sat with her until three o'clock, and then she insisted on his going for a run on the moors. "I'll walk across to Peewit, if you like, and take the books with me," he said, turning at the door. "It will give me an object in going out." "Very well, dear. You will find them in my room, on the table near the window."