“It’s my own money,” said Rob; “I should have spent it twice over if I had been at home.” And presently they fell into their usual topics of conversation, and this case of conscience was forgotten. Meanwhile Mrs Ogilvy fought and struggled with her thoughts up-stairs. She had all but divined that there had been a quarrel, and had many thoughts of going down, for she was still dressed, to clear it up. For if they quarrelled, what could be done? She could not turn Lewis out of her house--and indeed her heart inclined towards that soft-spoken ruffian with a most foolish softness. He might perhaps scoff a little now and then, but he was not unkind. He was always ready to receive her with a smile when she appeared, which was more than her son was, and had a way of seeming grateful and deferential whether he was really so or not, and sometimes said a word to soothe feelings which Robbie had ruffled, without appearing to see, which would have spoiled all, that Robbie had wounded them. Of the two, I am afraid that Mrs Ogilvy in her secret heart, so far down that she was herself unconscious of it, was most indulgent to Lew. Who could tell how he had been brought up, how he had been led astray? He might have been an orphan without any one to look after him, whereas Robbie---- Her heart bled to think how few excuses Robbie had, and yet excused him with innumerable eager pleas. But the chief thing was, that life was intolerable under these conditions: and what could she do, what could she propose, to mend them?--life turned upside down, a constant panic hanging over it, a terror of she knew not what, a sensation as of very existence in danger. What could be done, what could any one do? Nothing, for she dared not trust any one with the secret. It was heavy upon her own being, but she dared not share it with any other. She dared not even reveal to Janet anything of the special misery that overwhelmed her: that it was possible the police might come--the police!--and watch the innocent house, and bring a warrant, as if it were a nest of criminals. It made Mrs Ogilvy jump up from her seat, spring from her bed, whenever this thought came back to her. And in the meantime she could do nothing, but only sit still and bear it until some dreadful climax came.