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happy and satisfied, is himself. Being unhappy and dissatisfied twists people so, doesn’t it? Not that Hester was twisted, exactly; she was always straight.—But I have a feeling now, remembering how she was when I first saw her, that she had her back against a wall. There is no wall now.’

‘I don’t think that she had her back against a wall in the very least, my darling child; I think she was straight—as a ramrod—because she had spent her life in hitting out against the world— with complete success. I think she saw me with my back against the wall; and so I was. If there seems no wall now, it is only because I manage to act as though I could step away if I wanted to. As a matter of fact, I can’t move an inch. She is there, close to me—whichever way I stir.’ Tears now came to Monica’s eyes, the checked tears of her wretched afternoon, and she put her handkerchief, angrily, to her eyes. ‘I don’t mean that she forces herself on me; I mean that Clive puts her there, between us, and that she dares me to forget her for a moment.’

‘She can’t help it if he puts her there. It’s his loyalty, don’t you see?—because he is so afraid that you want to put her out.’

‘If he was afraid—of anything connected with