“That’s just where you’re wrong, Mr. Rock,” she answered: “not that I’m denying that thirty pounds is a lot of money; but then, you see, I’ve got that to sell that you want to buy, and badly. Also, as I told you, I take risks in selling it.” “What risks?” “The risks of being turned out of house and home, and being sold up, that’s all. Old Levinger don’t want no one to know Joan’s address; I can’t tell you why, but he don’t, and if he finds out that I have let on, it will be a bad business for me. Now look here: I fancy that there is another person as wouldn’t mind giving a trifle for this address, and if you’re so mean that you won’t cash up, I shall take a walk out yonder to-morrow morning,” and she nodded in the direction of Rosham. Samuel groaned, for he knew that she was alluding to his rival. “I doubt that he knows it already, curse him,” he said, striking his hand upon the table, “Thirty-five—there, that’s the last.” “You’re getting along, Mr. Rock, but it won’t do yet,” sneered Mrs. Gillingwater. “See here now, I’ve got something in my hand that I’ll show you just for friendship’s sake,” and producing Mrs. Bird’s letter, she read portions of it aloud, pausing from time to time to watch the effect upon her hearer. It was curious, for as he listened his face reflected the extremes of love, hope, terror and despair. “God!” he said, wringing his hands, “to think that she may be dead and gone from me for ever!” “If she were dead, Mr. Rock, it wouldn’t be much use my giving you her address, would it? since, however fond you may be of her, I reckon that you would scarcely care to follow her _there._ No, I’ll tell you this much, she is living and getting well again, and I fancy that you’re after a live woman, not a dead one.’ This was written a month ago and more.” “Thank heaven!” he muttered. “I couldn’t have borne to lose her like that; I think it would have driven me mad. While she’s alive there’s hope, but what hope is there in the grave?” Samuel spoke thus somewhat absently, after the fashion of a man who communes with himself, but all the while Mrs. Gillingwater felt that he was searching her with his eyes. Then of a sudden he leant forward, and swiftly as a striking snake he shot out his long arm across the table, and snatched the letter from her grasp. “You think yourself mighty clever, Mr. Rock,” she said, with a harsh laugh; “but you won’t get the address for nothing in that way. If you take the trouble to look you’ll see that I’ve tore it off. Ah! you’ve met your match for once; it is likely that I was going to trust what’s worth fifty pounds in reach of your fingers, isn’t it?” He looked at the letter and saw that she spoke truth. “I didn’t take it for that,” he said, gnawing his hand with shame and vexation; “I took it to see if there was a letter at all, or if you were making up lies.” And he threw it back to her.