"No, Fred, I don't. I think I understand." The conversation paused again. "I suppose we have said everything." Esther turned her face from him. Fred looked at her, and though her eyes were averted from him she could see that he loved her. In another moment he was gone. In her plain and ignorant way she thought on the romance of destiny. For if she had married Fred her life would have been quite different. She would have led the life that she wished to lead, but she had married William and--well, she must do the best she could. If Fred, or Fred's friends, got the police to prosecute them for betting, they would, as he said, not only have to pay a heavy fine, but would probably lose their licence. Then what would they do? William had not health to go about from race-course to race-course as he used to. He had lost a lot of money in the last six months; Jack was at school--they must think of Jack. The thought of their danger lay on her heart all that evening. But she had had no opportunity of speaking to William alone, she had to wait until they were in their room. Then, as she untied the strings of her petticoats, she said-- "I had a visit from Fred Parsons this afternoon." "That's the fellow you were engaged to marry. Is he after you still?" "No, he came to speak to me about the betting." "About the betting--what is it to do with him?" "He says that if it isn't stopped that we shall be prosecuted." "So he came here to tell you that, did he? I wish I had been in the bar." "I'm glad you wasn't. What good could you have done? To have a row and make things worse!" William lit his pipe and unlaced his boots. Esther slipped on her night-dress and got into a large brass bedstead, without curtains. On the chest of drawers Esther had placed the books her mother had given her, and William had hung some sporting prints on the walls. He took his night-shirt from the pillow and put it on without removing his pipe from his mouth. He always finished his pipe in bed. "It is revenge," he said, pulling the bed-clothes up to his chin, "because I got you away from him." "I don't think it is that; I did think so at first, and I said so." "What did he say?" "He said he was sorry I thought so badly of him; that he came to warn us of our danger. If he had wanted to do us an injury he wouldn't have said nothing about it. Don't you think so?" "It seems reasonable. Then what do you think they're doing it for?" "He says that keeping a betting-house is corruption in the neighbourhood." "You think he thinks that?" "I know he do; and there is many like him. I come of them that thinks like that, so I know. Betting and drink is what my folk, the Brethren, holds as most evil." "But you've forgot all about them Brethren?" "No, one never forgets what one's brought up in." "But what do you think now?"