“Come inside,” said Jehane. “I can't talk to you out there. You can stop your hoping.” Once inside, the appearance of the house told its story. It looked bare. From the sideboard the silver--mostly presents of Jehane's first marriage--had vanished. The walls were stripped of all ornaments which had a negotiable value. In the drawing-room there was an empty space where there had once been a piano. Only the carefully curtained windows kept up the pretence of trim prosperity. Jehane led Nan from room to room without a word and the children, shuffling behind, followed. “Now you've seen for yourself,” she said, “and a nice fool you must think me after my letters. I've lied for him and sold my jewelry for him. I've done without servants. I've crept out at night like a thief to the pawnbrokers, when there wasn't any money and there were debts to be settled. And the last thing I heard before he left was that he'd stolen the thousand pounds I lent him. And this---- this is what I get.” “Before he left?” “A month ago, after my last letter to you. You needn't pretend to be surprised, because you're not. You suspected. That's what brought you.” Nan felt faint with the shock of the realization. She tottered and stretched out her hands to save herself. Glory ran forward and put her arm round her. “Dear Auntie.” Nan drew Glory's head against her shoulder, sobbing. “Oh my dear, my poor little girl!” Jehane looked on unmoved, merely saying in her hard flat voice, “If there's any crying or fainting to be done, seems to me I'm the person to do it. But I'm past all that.” Nan quieted herself. “It so shocked me. I--I didn't mean to make a fuss. But won't you tell me how it all happened?” “Nothing to tell. It's just Ocky with his lies and promises.” “Oh, don't say that before the children about their father.” “I'll say what I like; they're my children. They've seen everything.” Nan looked round and saw sympathy only in the eyes of Glory. Moggs, balancing herself by her mother's skirts, piped up and spoke for the rest, “Farver's a naughty man.” Even her mother was startled by the candor of this endorsement; turning sharply, she caused Moggs to tumble on the floor with a bump. Moggs began to yell. Grateful for a diversion in any form, Nan knelt and comforted the little girl. Jehane watched her indifferently, as though all capacity for kindness had left her. When peace was restored, Nan said, “You're coming home with me, all of you.” “We're not.” “Why not?” “My husband may return. If he doesn't, I must stay here and keep up appearances till he gets safely out of the country. Heaven knows what he's done!---- And it's likely that I'd come to Topbury to be laughed at! _You_ may want me, but what about Billy? You've both known this for a month, and you couldn't even send me a line. Come to Topbury! No, thank you!”