Horace Williams stood by, quietly smiling. “Then you’re willing to trust her to me, Mrs. Palmer? You’ll forgive us for taking you by surprise, but you see, in all the circumstances, I could hardly--I naturally preferred--something very quiet. But you and I will have a little talk about business one of these days, and you’ll find that part of it all in good order. Elsie will be provided for, whatever happens.” “So generous,” murmured Mrs. Palmer. She insisted upon their remaining to dinner, and sent out Nellie Simmons for a bottle of wine. Elsie, now that she saw that her mother looked upon her marriage with the elderly solicitor as a triumph, and that Geraldine was madly jealous of her, became herself excited and elated. Williams went to the office in the afternoon, but Elsie remained at home and packed up all her things. She made her farewells quite cheerfully when Williams came to fetch her, still thinking of her mother’s repeated congratulations and praises. It came upon her as a shock, as they were driving away, when Williams observed dryly: “That’s over, and now there’ll be no need for you to be over here very often, Elsie, or _vice versa_. You must remember that _my_ house is your only home, now.” PART II I The European war affected Elsie Williams as much, or as little, as it affected many other young women. She had been married a little over a year in August 1914. She was vaguely alarmed, vaguely thrilled, moved to a great display of emotional enthusiasm at the sight of a khaki uniform and at the sound of a military band. Later on, she sang and hummed “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” “Tipperary,” and “We _Don’t_ Want to Lose You, but we Think you _Ought_ to Go,” and was voluble and indignant about the difficulties presented by sugar rations and meat coupons. She resented the air raids over London, and devoured the newspaper accounts of the damage done by them; she listened to, and eagerly retailed, anecdotes such as that of the Angels of Mons, or that of the Belgian child whose hands had been cut off by German soldiers; and after a period in which she declared that “everybody” would be ruined, she found herself in possession of more money than ever before. Never before had so many clients presented themselves to Messrs. Williams and Cleaver, and never before had there been so much money about. Elsie bought herself a fur coat and a great many other things, and went very often to the cinema, and sometimes to the theatre. She very soon found, however, that Williams, when he could not take her out himself, disliked her going with anybody else. He was willing enough that she should take Irene with her, or her sister Geraldine, but if she went out with any man, Williams became coldly, caustically angry, and sooner or later always found an opportunity for quarrelling with him. Elsie was bored and angry, contemptuous of his jealousy, but far too much afraid of him to rebel openly.