"Well, and if I was!" said Rachel, splendidly contradicting herself. "It's not a very nice thing for a girl to be left alone like that--_and all on account of a stick_!" There was a break in her voice. Arrived at the gate, she pushed it open. "Good-night," she snapped. "Please don't come in." And within the gate she deliberately stared at him with an unforgiving gaze. The impartial lamp-post lighted the scene. "Good-night," she repeated harshly. She was saying to herself: "He really does take it in the most beautiful way. I could do anything I liked with him." "Good-night," said Louis, with strict punctilio. When she got to the top of the steps she remembered that Louis had the latch-key. He was gone. She gave a wet sob and impulsively ran down the steps and opened the gate. Louis returned. She tried to speak and could not. "I beg your pardon," said Louis. "Of course you want the key." He handed her the key with a gesture that disconcertingly melted the rigour of all her limbs. She snatched at it, and plunged for the gate just as the tears rolled down her cheeks in a shower. The noise of the gate covered a fresh sob. She did not look back. Amid all her quite real distress she was proud and happy--proud because she was old enough and independent enough and audacious enough to quarrel with her lover, and happy because she had suddenly discovered life. And the soft darkness and the wind, and the faint sky reflections of distant furnace fires, and the sense of the road winding upward, and the very sense of the black mass of the house in front of her (dimly lighted at the upper floor) all made part of her mysterious happiness. CHAPTER VIII END AND BEGINNING I "Mrs. Tams!" said Mrs. Maldon, in a low, alarmed, and urgent voice. The gas was turned down in the bedroom, and Mrs. Maldon, looking from her bed across the chamber, could only just distinguish the stout, vague form of the charwoman asleep in an arm-chair. The light from the street lamp was strong enough to throw faint shadows of the window-frames on the blinds. The sleeper did not stir. Mrs. Maldon summoned again, more loudly-- "Mrs. Tams!" And Mrs. Tams, starting out of another world, replied with deprecation-- "Hey, hey!" as if saying: "I am here. I am fully awake and observant. Please remain calm." Mrs. Maldon said agitatedly-- "I've just heard the front door open. I'm sure whoever it was was trying not to make a noise. There! Can't you hear anything?" "That I canna'!" said Mrs. Tams. "No!" Mrs. Maldon protested, as Mrs. Tams approached the gas to raise it. "Don't touch the gas. If anybody's got in let them think we're asleep." The mystery of the vanished money and the fear of assassins seemed suddenly to oppress the very air of the room. Mrs. Maldon was leaning on one elbow in her bed. Mrs. Tams said to her in a whisper-- "I mun go see." "Please don't!" Mrs. Maldon entreated. "I mun go see," said Mrs. Tams.