"And the Williamson affair," got in Venetia. "Oh, I am the very last to rake up things, as you call it. I, for one, will say no more of things that have happened, but I _must_ speak of things that affect myself." "What is affecting you?" "Just this. You know quite well the financial position. You know what the upkeep of this house means. You can't do it. You plainly can't do it. Your income is not sufficient." "But how does that affect you?" "When tradespeople talk it affects me; it affects us all. Why not let this house and live quietly, somewhere in the country, 'til things blow over?" "What do you mean by things blowing over?" asked Teresa. "One would think that you were talking of some disgrace that had happened." Venetia pulled up her long left hand glove and moved as though about to depart. She said nothing but looked at her glove. During the whole of this time she had neither looked at nor spoken to Jones, nor included him by word in the conversation. Her influence had been working upon him ever since she entered the room. He began now more fully to understand the part she had played in the life of Rochester. He felt that he wanted to talk to Venetia as Rochester had, probably, never talked. "A man once said to me that the greatest mistake a fellow can make is to have a sister to live with him after his marriage," said Jones. Venetia pulled up her right hand glove. "A sister that has had to face mad intoxication and _worse_, can endorse that opinion," said she. "What do you mean by worse?" fired Teresa. "I mean exactly what I say," replied Venetia. "That is no answer. Do you mean that Arthur has been unfaithful to me?" "I did not say that." "Well, what can be worse than intoxication--that is the only thing worse that I know of--unless murder. Do you mean that he has murdered someone?" "I will not let you drag me into a quarrel," said Venetia; "you are putting things into my mouth. I think mad extravagance is worse than intoxication, inasmuch as it is committed by reasonable people uninfluenced by drugs or alcohol. I think insults levelled at inoffensive people are worse than the wildest deeds committed under the influence of that demon alcohol." "Who are the inoffensive people who have been insulted?" "Good gracious--well, of course you don't know--you have not had to interview people." "What people?" "Sir Pleydell Harcourt for instance, who had sixteen pianos sent to him only last week, to say nothing of pantechnicon vans and half the contents of Harrods' and Whiteleys', so that Arlington Street was blocked, simply blocked, the whole of last Friday." "Did he say Arthur had sent them?" "He had no direct proof--but he knew. There was no other man in London would have done such a thing." "Did you send them, Ju-ju?" "No," said Jones. "I did not." Venetia rose. "You admitted to me, yourself, that you did," said she. "I was only joking," he replied. Teresa went to the bell and rang it.