"Well, if you had taken my advice, you would never have married the creature," she said, handing him his third cup. "You'll never be far out if you trust to me. I saw what she was the moment Uncle Barton brought her here." "Then why did you take her as governess to Dicky?" "What could I do?" Here Julia's handkerchief went to her eyes. "You know I was absolutely dependent on Uncle Barton; but you don't know how brutally he treated me. But for my spirit I should have died. He threatened to deprive me of every penny if I didn't keep her. I protested and protested, but it was no use." "Yes, yes, I can quite imagine all you had to go through," said Gerald, getting restive. He had no fancy for a scene. The widow resenting thus being cut short became more than ever spiteful. "Perhaps you can imagine, too, the pretty little meetings that used to take place down here between your wife and her lover!" "Lover!--what lover?" "A man rejoicing in the very unromantic name of Jabez!--the name's as ugly as himself." "Jabez?--why, he was her brother. Hilda told me so." "I gave Hilda credit for more sense--and who told her, pray?" "Her husband. He had it from Miriam herself. Funny part of it is she never told me." "Bah--lies, lies--all lies. The woman's a thorough bad lot, Gerald, and you did the wisest day's work you ever did when you left her. The man was her lover I tell you--a part of her former slum life. Don't you tell _me_. Left her? I should think you did leave her!" "Well, then, Julia, let's be content with that. You've thoroughly upheld my action--very thoroughly I must say, which is of course quite right." "Oh, you men, what fools you are! At all events I did give _you_ credit for _some_ taste--" "Yes, I'm generally considered a man of taste. Hitherto I've not had much money to indulge it; but that's not my fault." "Carroty hair and freckles, and a figure bobbing out where it should go in, and sinking into a great hole where it should bob out, and feet! Well----" "Oh, come, that'll do, Julia--that'll do. I ought to be well posted in my wife's points by this time. I've left her I tell you for good and all, and she's got her own income, and----" "Got--her--own--income! What in the name of common-sense do you mean, boy?" It was so naïve of Julia to invoke common-sense. "Exactly what I say. She has three hundred a year under this will." "Three hundred----!" she gasped. For the moment it was all she could do. A whiff at her ammonia brought her round. "You mean to tell me that Uncle Barton left this woman an income equal to mine--equal--to--mine?" "Certainly."