“It’s been a understood thing for a long time,” she said, slowly, “but I couldn’t leave my son while ’e was single and nobody to look after ’im. A good mother makes a good wife, so they say. A woman can’t always ’ave ’er own way in everything, and if it’s not to be by banns, then by license it must be, I suppose.” “Well, he’ll be a fortunate man, whoever he is,” said Mr. Nugent, with another warning glance at Mr. Wilks; “and I only hope that he’ll make a better husband than you do, Sam,” he added, in a low but severe voice. Mrs. Silk gave a violent start. “_Better husband than ’e does?_” she cried, sharply. “Mr. Wilks ain’t married.” Mr. Nugent’s baseless charge took the steward all aback. He stiffened in his chair, a picture of consternation, and guilt appeared stamped on every feature; but he had the presence of mind to look to Mr. Nugent’s eye for guidance and sufficient strength of character to accept this last bid for liberty. “That’s my business, sir,” he quavered, in offended tones. “But you ain’t married?” screamed Mrs. Silk. “Never mind,” said Nugent, pacifically. “Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it; it’s a sore subject with Sam. And I daresay there were faults on both sides. Weren’t there, Sam?” “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Wilks, in a voice which he strove hard to make distinct; “especially ’ers.” “You—you never told me you were married,” said Mrs. Silk, breathlessly. “I never said I wasn’t,” retorted the culprit, defiantly. “If people liked to think I was a single man, I don’t care; it’s got nothing to do with them. Besides, she lives at Stepney, and I don’t ’ear from ’er once in six months; she don’t interfere with me and I don’t interfere with her.” Mrs. Silk got up from her chair and stood confronting him with her hand grasping the back of it. Her cold eyes gleamed and her face worked with spite as she tried in vain to catch his eye. Of Mr. Nugent and his ingenuous surprise at her behaviour she took no notice at all. “You’re a deceiver,” she gasped; “you’ve been behaving like a single man and everybody thought you was a single man.” “I hope you haven’t been paying attentions to anybody, Sam,” said Mr. Nugent in a shocked voice. [Illustration: “You’re a deceiver,’ she gasped.”] “A-ah,” said Mrs. Silk, shivering with anger. “Ask ’im; the deceiving villain. Ask anybody, and see what they’ll tell you. Oh, you wicked man, I wonder you can look me in the face!” Truth to tell, Mr. Wilks was looking in any direction but hers. His eyes met Nugent’s, but there was a look of such stern disdain on that gentleman’s face that he was fain to look away again. “Was it a friend of yours?” inquired the artless Mr. Nugent. “Never mind,” said Mrs. Silk, recovering herself. “Never mind who it was. You wait till I go and tell Teddy,” she continued, turning to the trembling Mr. Wilks. “If ’e’s got the ’art of a man in ’im you’ll see.”