Spenworth will do no more than he has already done--that we know--; when I lay at death's door and begged him with what might have been my last breath to make a settlement on Will--his own nephew... And at Brackenbury it is canny, north-country little Ruth who holds the purse-strings ... and dispenses her charity, offering to pay for my operation and reminding me that, when Will was at Eton, the bills came to them... I have felt for more years than I like to count that pinching and scraping are my appointed lot... Of recent months the task became almost too much for my powers. Not only the cost of living... Will had lost this Morecambe appointment without finding another. Arthur complained that figure-head directors were not in so great request as formerly; he was shame-faced about it, as though his pride were hurt; I did not then imagine that he had to give me less money because he was giving more in another quarter... And you will remember that, when you told me, I refused to believe it. Goodness me, I am not so vain as to think that the man who once loved me _must_ always love me, but there is such a thing as loyalty--and gratitude. I had trusted him ... and that was enough; I did not need to tell him--or you--or even myself that he had enjoyed the best years of my life, that I was an old woman while he was still--thanks to me--a young man, that I had borne him a son and worn myself out before my time in scheming and contriving for the comfort and well-being of them both... It was brave of you to tell me, to insist on my knowing... and _believing_. I was _dazed_. That Arthur should be giving her dresses and jewellery, when he could not afford to redecorate his wife's house... And apparently it was the common talk of the clubs; and no doubt kind friends were secretly pitying me... The last infatuation of the middle-aged man--they were telling one another that I was six years Arthur's senior--and what could you expect? As if I had made any secret of my age! It is in the books. And they were, perhaps, wondering how soon he would outgrow it and how much I knew and whether I minded... _There_ was the rub--this savage, impertinent curiosity. What business of theirs if my husband humiliated me? And, strangely enough, one has so often seen it with other women and somehow always fancied that it would never happen to oneself. The swan-song... As a man feels that his youth is slipping out of his grasp, he makes this one last despairing effort. And love at that age is like a blow from a sledge-hammer; Arthur was prepared to run away with the woman. Indeed I know what I am talking about. Then, I felt, it _was_ time for me to intervene...