The sounds of her aunt opening the shop next door roused her from a sort of stupor. Taking the big key, she proceeded to open the office for the day’s business. There was some book-keeping to be done, also a schedule or two to fill up, but her hand shook so that she could scarcely write. And suddenly she realized that she was afraid, desperately afraid. She was so wholly dependent on that man next door; her very existence was in his hands; she was, to all intents and purposes, his prisoner. A few pounds would have made all the difference now. She possessed less than two shillings. There was no escape. She unlocked the safe, and transferred part of its contents, money, stamps, and so forth, to their proper drawers. The money gave her a sickish feeling; so much of it—the price of her salvation over and over again—her freedom in a fraction of it. . . . Violently she shut the drawer and turned to the desk. A child came in with a letter and a penny, and, a little later, a woman with a parcel. Then there was a longish blank till an elderly man entered. He made a brief remark on the weather and proceeded to fill up a money order request-form. Presently he pushed it across the counter along with the money, £27, in three five-pound and twelve one-pound notes, also an eightpence to pay the charge. Laying the money on the desk, she collected her wits and carefully wrote out the order. Her sleeve brushed the notes separate without her noticing. The man wanted to know when a letter would be delivered in a certain outlying place in Ireland, and she took the “Post-office guide” to the counter and found him the information contained therein. He went out, leaving the door open. The brisk current of morning air was welcome. Before she could turn from the counter a girl came in with a few shillings for her savings account. . . . When the girl had gone Kitty put her hands to her head, which was now throbbing painfully. Some little time elapsed before she returned to the desk. Observing the notes, she gathered them up and placed them in the proper drawer for money order and postal order transactions. She locked the drawer with a key on the bunch hanging from her belt. Often this drawer contained fairly large sums. Once more she attacked her clerical work. Somehow the morning passed. At noon she was relieved for half an hour, by her uncle. He peered about, but made no remark, and without even glancing at him she passed through the short passage leading to the shop and thence to the cottage. Her dinner was waiting on the table. Miss Corrie, who had put it there, had gone back to the shop; she dined with her brother later. Kitty could not eat. After a while she went up to her room and lay down for ten minutes. The pity was that she did not spend the whole of her half-hour upstairs.