Sidney turned his face to the stairs. The homeward prospect was dreary after that glimpse of the familiar room through the doorway. The breach of habit discomposed him, and something more positive strengthened his reluctance to be gone. It was not his custom to hang in hesitancy and court chance by indirectness of speech; recognising and admitting his motives, he said simply: ‘I should like to stay a little, if you will let me—if I shan’t be in your way?’ ‘Oh no! Please come in. I’m only sewing.’ There were two round-backed wooden chairs in the room; one stood on each side of the fireplace, and between them, beside the table, Jane always had her place on a small chair of the ordinary comfortless kind. She seated herself as usual, and Sidney took his familiar position, with the vacant chair opposite. Snowdon and he were accustomed to smoke their pipes whilst conversing, but this evening Sidney dispensed with tobacco. It was very quiet here. On the floor below dwelt at present two sisters who kept themselves alive (it is quite inaccurate to use any other phrase in such instances) by doing all manner of skilful needlework; they were middle-aged women, gentle-natured, and so thoroughly subdued to the hopelessness of their lot that scarcely ever could even their footfall be heard as they went up and down stairs; their voices were always sunk to a soft murmur. Just now no infant wailing came from the Byasses’ regions. Kirkwood enjoyed a sense of restfulness, intenser, perhaps, for the momentary disappointment he had encountered. He had no desire to talk; enough for a few minutes to sit and watch Jane’s hand as it moved backwards and forwards with the needle. ‘I went to see Pennyloaf as I came back from work,’ Jane said at length, just looking up. ‘Did you? Do things seem to be any better?’ ‘Not much, I’m afraid. Mr. Kirkwood, don’t you think you might do something? If you tried again with her husband?’ ‘The fact is,’ replied Sidney, ‘I’m so afraid of doing more harm than good.’ ‘You think—But then perhaps that’s just what _I’m_ doing?’ Jane let her hand fall on the sewing and regarded him anxiously. ‘No, no! I’m quite sure _you_ can’t do harm. Pennyloaf can get nothing but good from having you as a friend. She likes you; she misses you when you happen not to have seen her for a few days. I’m sorry to say it’s quite a different thing with Bob and me. We’re friendly enough—as friendly as ever—but I haven’t a scrap of influence with him like you have with his wife. It was all very well to get hold of him once, and try to make him understand, in a half-joking way, that he wasn’t behaving as well as he might. He didn’t take it amiss—just that once. But you can’t think how difficult it is for one man to begin preaching to another. The natural thought is: Mind your own business. If I was the parson of the parish—’ He paused, and in the same instant their eyes met. The suggestion was irresistible; Jane began to laugh merrily.