Iris was looking forward to her husband’s return with an amount of determination that would have astonished any one who had seen her only in her moments of nervous prostration, when his insults and cruelty had opened her eyes to the folly of which she had been guilty in marrying him, at the same time that she felt her utter impotence to cope with the fate she had brought on herself. But there are points beyond which even the weakest will turn to defend themselves, and such an era had been reached in Iris Harland’s life now. She had carefully thought over the news which Mr Vansittart’s letter to her husband had revealed to her, and her mind seemed suddenly to have grasped the whole meaning of Godfrey’s late behaviour. He intended to desert her. He had made these new friends, who evidently believed him to be unmarried, and he had concealed all his liabilities--domestic and otherwise--from them, and would in all probability accompany them to this new world, and begin life over again, leaving her to perish or to maintain herself as best she could, so long as he was quit of her. He had often threatened so to leave her, but she had never quite believed he would have the cruelty to carry his threats into execution. But now she did. Certain late outrages in his treatment of her had made her believe him capable of anything, even of getting her out of his way, if she stood in it. Mr Vansittart’s letter said that the _Pandora_ sailed on the 24th. That was only ten days off. Surely, if Godfrey accepted the offer made to him, he would give her some warning of his intentions. At all events, she would wait and watch. If he carried his cruel threats into effect, she had made up her mind what to do. But the means. How was she to obtain the means to baffle her husband’s scheme to rid himself of her. The poor child sat and thought with her head in her hands all through the livelong day, without having come to any solution of the riddle, whilst Maggie hovered round her, dissolved in tears, entreating her to have a cup of tea, or to go to bed, or to tell her what was on her mind. At last, as the evening drew near, Iris heard her husband’s latch-key fumbling uncertainly in the keyhole, and knew that he had returned. Maggie heard the sound, too, and recognised the reason. ‘He’s bin at it agen,’ she remarked, with a contemptuous movement of her mouth, as she went to open the door. Godfrey stumbled past her, with an oath, into the little sitting-room, where his wife was waiting to receive him. He, too, was uncertain what to say to her. He had resolved to be led by circumstances. But he was sure of one thing. He must get his way by fair means, rather than by foul. His object just now was conciliation all round, until he had got clear out of England. So the husband and wife met, at heart belligerents, but outwardly calm, in order to effect their several purposes.