Now Edward Henry had had no intention of meriting cake. He had merely followed in speech the secret train of his thought. But he saw that he had treated a West End audience as a West End audience had never before been treated, and that his audacity had conquered. Hence he determined not to refuse the cake. "Didn’t I tell you I’d settle ’em?" said he. The band played "God Save the King." VI. One hour later, in the double-bedded chamber at the Majestic, as his wife lay in bed and he was methodically folding up a creased white tie and inspecting his chin in the mirror, he felt that he was touching again, after an immeasurable interval, the rock-bottom of reality. Nellie, even when he could see only her face, and that in a mirror, was the most real phenomenon in his existence, and she possessed the strange faculty of dispelling all unreality, round about her. "Well," he said. "How did you get on in the box?" "Oh!" she replied, "I got on very well with the Woldo woman. She’s one of our sort. But I’m not so set up with your Elsie April." "Dash this collar!" Nellie continued: "And I can tell you another thing. I don’t envy Mr. Rollo Wrissel." "What’s Wrissel got to do with it?" "She means to marry him." "Elsie April means to marry Wrissel?" "He was in and out of the box all night. It was as plain as a pikestaff." "What’s amiss with my Elsie April?" Edward Henry demanded. "She’s a thought too _pleasant_ for my taste," answered Nellie. Astonishing, how pleasantness is regarded with suspicion in the Five Towns, even by women who can at a pinch be angels! VII. Often during the brief night he gazed sleepily at the vague next bed and mused upon the extraordinariness of women’s consciences. His wife slept like an innocent. She always did. It was as though she gently expired every evening and returned gloriously to life every morning. The sunshiny hours between three and seven were very long to him, but it was indisputable that he did not hear the clock strike six, which was, at any rate, proof of a little sleep to the good. At five minutes past seven he thought he heard a faint rustling noise in the corridor, and he arose and tiptoed to the door and opened it. Yes, the Majestic had its good qualities! He had ordered that all the London morning daily papers should be laid at his door as early as possible, and there the pile was, somewhat damp, and as fresh as fruit, with a slight odour of ink. He took it in. His heart was beating as he climbed back into bed with it and arranged pillows so that he could sit up, and unfolded the first paper. Nellie had not stirred.