This subject, and the recrimination it provoked, made every nerve in her body tingle; in such a moment the sordidness of this perpetual difficulty with money, the ugliness of money itself, settled on her spirit, crushing it down as by some actual physical effort. The spell of ease and relief that Haverford's generosity had signified had been very brief. After a good deal of deliberation, she had filled in the blank cheque for a thousand pounds. Her inclination and her necessity had both urged her to make it three times that sum, but she had been temperate, feeling the need of caution. The cheque had gone to her bank the day before, and already she had drawn very largely against it. She dared not drain the money in its entirety, otherwise she would leave herself unprotected should the evil she feared (to meet which she had borrowed this sum) fall upon her. In casting up her position, she had dealt only with those things that were disagreeably prominent ... and she had absolutely forgotten her obligation to her brother-in-law. She regretted now, impatiently enough, that she had not drawn upon Haverford for a much larger amount. If she were to give Violet even a portion of this debt, she would leave herself without a penny of ready money once more. Mrs. Horace Lancing was continuing to press the matter home in an aggravating way; she enumerated the many necessities her life lacked, and all that she would have done during the last few months if only her husband had cultivated prudence instead of generosity. It suddenly dawned upon Camilla that her brother-in-law must have passed through an exceedingly unpleasant time. "Poor Horace!" she said to herself. He was the only member of her husband's family who had shown her a particle of sympathy, and she felt honestly sorry in this moment that she should have trespassed so heavily on that sympathy. She let the curtain slip from her fingers. "Look here, Violet, I can't possibly do anything now, really I can't; but at Christmas I promise faithfully." Mrs. Horace laughed. "At Christmas! Oh yes! And when Christmas comes it will be, 'Violet dear, I am so very sorry, but can't you possibly wait till Easter?' Oh, I know ... I know!" There were two bright patches of unbecoming colour on her cheeks; she was adjusting her veil with hands that trembled. "You have no right to say that sort of thing!" said Camilla, hotly; "it is very unjust and very untrue."