All Mrs. Brent’s resentments flared up. Lady Brent had been conciliatory towards her of late, with an evident desire to avoid conflict, and she had taken advantage of it and lost some of her awe of her; she had thought of herself almost as having the upper hand, and had come to this interview prepared to treat with her amicably and be generous in making some admissions. But she wanted a row, did she? Very well then, she should have it. All her Cockney fighting spirit was aroused. She had years of oppression to resent and to revenge. She was not under her thumb now, to be browbeaten and kept in her place. She leapt to the opportunity of striking and wounding. "That’s what you’d like," she said, "for me to lose his love. You’ve tried to take him away from me all his life up till now, and you haven’t been able to do it. Now you’ll make use of this, somehow, to get your way. But you won’t do it. If he won’t listen to me, he won’t listen to you. I’m a fool, you say. Yes, I was a fool to come to you and think you could do anything. You’ve worked and worked to have your own way, and now it’s ended like this. You’ll suffer for it. You’ll suffer for it more than I shall." Lady Brent listened to this, leaning back in her chair again. When she spoke her voice was even, but her face was white and her hands lying in her lap trembled ever so little. If Mrs. Brent’s fury had not blinded her, she might have noticed these signs and taken warning from them, for they had never been shown before, even in the sharpest encounters between them. "Whatever suffering there is to be," said the low decisive voice, "I shall no doubt feel more than you. You’re a very poor creature, and as long as you have something in life to amuse you you won’t suffer much through others. I’ve tried to make the best of you, for Harry’s sake. You’ve had your chance with him—a better chance than you could ever have had but for me. Sometimes I’ve thought it had succeeded to have you here, when I’ve wished with all my heart that you could be away. But the test has come now, and you’ve failed. Yes, you’ve failed, much more than you know. You’re upset in your foolish way now, but you think I have only to step in and do something, and it will be put right for you again. It will never be put right." Mrs. Brent had tried to break in once or twice in the course of this speech, but the level voice had gone on till the end, and the eyes fixed upon her had never wavered. She realized that nothing would be spared her, that whatever dislike and hostility she might choose to express in her anger would be met by a feeling at least as strong, which would find expression now, after being kept under for years, with a force in comparison with which her own powers of attack were as nothing. Already she was affected by it. She glimpsed hatred of her behind the steady utterance. She had talked freely of her own hatred, but it was a terrifying thing to feel it returned.