The question, although not put unkindly, annoyed Kate. 'One would think I'd come back from a long journey', she said to herself. 'It's just as Hender says; if I'm out half an hour more than my time everyone is, as they say, "wondering what has become of me."' Assuming an air of indifference, she told him that Mrs. Barnes kept her a long time, and that she went for a walk afterwards. 'I'm glad of that,' he said. 'You wanted a walk after being shut up with me three nights running. And what a time you must have had of it! But tell me what you've been doing in the shop.' She told him that 'mother' had sold all the aprons, and he said: 'I knew they'd sell. I told you so, didn't I?' 'You did, dear,' said Kate, seeking to satisfy him; 'but you mustn't talk so much; you'll make yourself bad again.' 'But are you going?' 'I've been out so long that I've a lot to do; but I'll come back and see you in the evening.' 'Well, then, kiss me before you go.' As she kissed him, she remembered the struggle in the potteries, and it appeared strange to her that she should now be giving as a matter of course what she had refused an hour ago. She had always complied with the ordinances of the marriage state without passion or revolt, but now it disgusted her to kiss her husband, and as she stepped into the passage she almost walked into Mr. Lennox's room unconsciously, without knowing what she was doing, beguiled by the natural sentiment that a woman feels in the room of a man she is interested in. Hoping that Mrs. Ede had not yet set everything straight, she went on to make sure. Slippers and boots lay about; the portmanteau yawned wide open, with some soiled shirts on the top; a pair of trousers trailed from a chair on the floor. Annoyed at the mother's negligence, Kate hung the trousers on the door, placed the slippers tidily by his bedside, and put away the soiled linen. But in doing so she could not refrain from glancing at the contents of the portmanteau. She saw many of the traces which follow those who frequent women's society. The duchess works a pair of slippers for her lover, and the chorus-girl does the same. The merchant's wife, as she holds the loved hand under the ledge of her box at the theatre, clasps the ring she had given; the rich widow opposite has a jewel-case in her pocket which will presently be sent round to the stage-door for the tenor, who is now thinking of his high B flat.