"I say you're going to listen," he insisted, turning on his side towards her. "And why not? Why, what on earth did I say last night, after all, I should like to know?" "You said you'd taken the other part of the money of Mrs. Maldon's--that's what you said. You thought you were dying, and so you told me." "That's just what I want to explain. I'm going to explain it to you." "No explanations for me, thanks!" she sneered, walking in the direction of the hearth. "I'd sooner hear anything, anything, than your explanations." She seemed to shudder. He nerved himself. "I tell you I _found_ that money," he cried, recommencing. "Well, good-bye," she said, moving to the door. "You don't seem to understand." At the same moment there was a knock at the door. "Come in, Mrs. Tarns," said Rachel calmly. "She mustn't come in now," Louis protested. "Come in, Mrs. Tams," Rachel repeated decisively. And Mrs. Tams entered, curtsying towards the bed. "What is it?" Rachel asked her. "It's the greengrocer's cart, ma'am." The greengrocer usually did send round on Saturday mornings. "I'll go down. Just clear up that washstand, will you?" It was remarkable to Louis how chance would favour a woman in an altercation. But he had decided, even if somewhat hysterically, to submit to no more delay, and to end the altercation--and moreover, to end it in his own way. "Rachel!" he called. Several times he called her name, more and more loudly. He ignored what was due to servants, to greengrocers, and to the dignity of employers. He kept on calling. "Shall I fetch missis, sir?" Mrs. Tams suggested at length. He nodded. Mrs. Tams departed, laden. Certainly the fat creature, from whom nothing could be hid by a younger generation, had divined that strife had supervened on illness, and that great destinies hung upon the issue. Neither Mrs. Tams nor Rachel returned to the bedroom. Louis began again to call for Rachel, and then to yell for her. He could feel that the effort was exhausting him, but he was determined to vanquish her. IV Without a sound she startlingly appeared in the room. "What's the matter?" she inquired, with her irritating assumption of tranquillity. "You know what's the matter." "I wish you wouldn't scream like a baby," she said. "You know I want to speak to you, and you're keeping out of the way on purpose." Rachel said-- "Look here, Louis! Do you want me to leave the house altogether?" He thought-- "What is she saying? We've only been married a few weeks. This is getting serious." Aloud he answered-- "Of course I don't want you to leave the house." "Well, then, don't say any more. Because if you do, I shall. I've heard all I want to hear. There are some things I can bear, and some I can't bear." "If you don't listen--!" he exclaimed. "I'm warning you!" She glanced at the thief in him, and at the coward penitent of the night, with the most desolating disdain, and left the room. That was her answer to his warning.