When they returned from their last tram-drive they had supper with Mr. and Mrs. Copas, who discussed the new actors whom they had engaged, as only two of the old company were willing to return. The new comic had acted in London, in the West End, had once made his twenty pounds a week. They were proud of him, and Mr. Copas unblushingly denounced the Drink as the undoing of many a nartist. Very early in the evening, before any move had been made to clear the plates and dishes away, Matilda declared herself tired, and withdrew. Mr. Copas went on talking and Mrs. Copas began to make horrible faces at him, so that Old Mole, in the vagueness of his acute discomfort, thought mistily that perhaps they were at the beginning of an altercation, which would end--as their altercations ended. However, the talk went on and the grimaces went on until at last Mr. Copas perceived that he was the object of them, stopped dead, seized his hat and left the room. Mrs. Copas beamed on Mr. Mole. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. They were bare to the elbow and fat and coarse and red. She went on beaming, and nervously he took out a cigar and lit it. Mrs. Copas leaned forward and with a knife began to draw patterns with the mustard left on the edge of a plate. "We'll be on the move again soon, Mr. Mole." "I shall be glad of that." "What we want to know, what I want to know and what Mr. Copas wants to know is this. What are you going to do about it?" "I . . . I suppose I shall go with you." "You know what I mean, Mr. Mole. Some folk ain't particular. I am. And Mr. Copas is very careful about what happens in his theater. If it can't be legitimate it can't be and there's nothing more to be said. . . . Now, Mr. Mole, what are you going to do?" "My good woman! I haven't the least idea what you are talking about. I have enjoyed my stay with you. I have found it very instructive and profitable and I propose to----" "It's Matilda, Mr. Mole. What's done is done. We're not saying anything about that. Some says it's a curse and some says it's the only thing worth living for. Matilda's my own husband's niece and I've got to see her properly done by whether you're offended with a little plain speaking or not, Mr. Mole." She had now traced a very passable spider's web in mustard on the plate. "If you need to be told, I must tell you, Mr. Mole. Matilda's in the way." No definite idea came to Mr. Mole, but a funny little throb and trickle began at the base of his spine. He dabbed his cigar down into half a glass of beer that Mr. Copas had left. "We've talked it out, Mr. Mole, and you've got to marry her or pay up handsome."