"All but little Alice," he reminded her. His eyes glittered in the dark. "Does _he_ stand you anything for her?" he continued confidentially. "Should do--a gentleman. Now if you could get an affiliation order against him that'd be worth five or six bob a week to you. And that's money to a woman in your position--pay me my rent and all too. Only pity is," he ended, thoughtfully, "can't be done. You and me know that if Ern don't." Ruth broke fiercely away. Leisurely he followed her down the stairs with loud feet. He was greatly at his ease. His hat, which he had never taken off, was on the back of his big head. He was sucking a dirty pencil, and studying his rent-book, as he entered the kitchen. "You're a bit behind, I see," casually. "Only two weeks," as coldly. "As yet." He swaggered to the door with a peculiar roll of his shoulders. "If you was to wish to wipe it off at any time you've only got to say the word. I might oblige." He stood with his back to her, looking out of the door, and humming. She was over against the range. "What's that?" she panted. Standing on the threshold he turned and leered back at her out of half-closed eyes. She sneered magnificently. "Ah, I knaw you," she said. "What's it all about?" he answered, cleaning his nails. "Only a little bit of accommodation. No thin out o the way." "Thank you. I knaw your accommodation," she answered deeply. "Well," he retorted, picking his teeth. "There's no harm in it. What's the fuss about?" "I'll tell Mr. Trupp," Ruth answered. "That's all." Alf turned full face to her, jeering. "What's old Trupp to me, then?" he cried. "I done with him. I done with em all. I'm me own master, I am--Alfred Caspar, Hesquire, of Caspar's Garridges, Company promoter. Handlin me thousands as you handle coppers." He folded his arms, thrust out a leg, and looked the part majestically without a snigger. It was clear he was extraordinarily impressive to himself. Ruth relaxed slowly, deliciously, like an ice-pack touched by the laughing kiss of spring. She eyed her enemy with the amused indifference of some big-boned thoroughbred mare courted by an amorous pony. "You're mad," she said. "That's the only why I don't slosh the sauce-pan over you. But I shall tell Ern all the same. And he'll tell em all." "And who's goin to believe Ern?" jeered her tormentor. "'Old Town Toper,' they call him. Fairly sodden." "Not to say Archdeacon Willcocks and Mr. Chislehurst," continued Ruth, calmly. Alf shot his finger at her like a crook in a melodrama, looking along it as it might have been a pistol and loving his pose. "And would they believe _you_ against me? Do you attend mass? Are you a sidesman?" "I was confirmed Church afore ever you was," retorted Ruth with spirit. "I've as good a right to the sacraments, as you have then. And I'll take to em again if I'm druv to it--that I will!"