"I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I wanted to round off a glorious evening." "I think a jolly good sleep rounds off a glorious evening, or anything else, best of all." "I think you sleep too much," argued Maurice, who was so tired himself that he felt bound to contest futilely every point of the discussion. "Well, I don't. That's where you and me don't agree." "You're always sleeping." "Well, if I like it, it needn't trouble you." "Nothing troubles me," Maurice answered with much austerity. "Only I wish to goodness you'd behave reasonably. Look here, you're an artistic person. You earn your living by dancing. You don't want to take up with a lot of old women's notions of morality. If you reject an experience, you'll suffer for it. Chance only offers you Life--I mean Life only offers you Chance----" But it did not matter much what he meant, for by now Jenny was fast asleep. Chapter XXI: _Epilogue_ Jenny went to bed at Irene's house in Camden Town and slept soundly till four o'clock in the afternoon. Then she got up, dressed herself, and prepared to face the storms of 17 Hagworth Street. When she walked into the kitchen, the family was assembled in conclave round the tea-table. The addition of her brother to the usual party of three made her exclaim in surprise from the doorway: "Oo--er, there's Alfie." "So you've come back?" said Mrs. Raeburn. "Yes, I went to Covent Garden Ball." "I wonder you dare show your face." "Why not?" asked Jenny, advancing towards the table. "Oh, leave her alone, mother," said May. "She's tired." "You dare tell me what I'm to do," Mrs. Raeburn threatened, turning sharply to her youngest daughter. Jenny began to unbutton her gloves, loftily unconscious of her mother's gaze, which was now again directed upon her. "How's yourself, young Alf?" she lightly inquired. "Better than you, I hope," came the morose reply muffled by a teacup. "Perhaps you'd like us to help you off with your things?" Mrs. Raeburn suggested sarcastically. "Eh?" Jenny retorted, pointing a cold insolence of manner with arched contemptuous eyebrows. "Don't you try and defy me, miss," Mrs. Raeburn warned her. "Because you know I won't have it." "Who cares? I haven't done nothing." Alfie guffawed ironically. "I wonder you aren't afraid to make a noise like that with such long ears as you've got," said Jenny. "I should be." Alfie muttered something about sauce under his breath, but ventured no audible retort. "Well, what's the matter?" Jenny asked. "Get it over and done with." "Where were you last night?" "I told you. At Covent Garden Ball." "And afterwards?" "I went home with Ireen." "And that's a ---- lie," shouted Alfie. "Because I saw you go off with a fellah." "What of it, Mr. Nosy Parker? And don't use your navvy's language to me, because I don't like it." "That's quite right," May agreed. "He ought to be ashamed of himself." "You shut up, you silly kid," Alfie commanded. Here Charlie entered the dispute.