From time to time she looked at her husband and smiled
as his chin dropped to his breast and recovered itself with a start.
At the stroke of ten she murmured, "Steven, are you ready for bed?"
He rose, stumbling for drowsiness.
As they passed into the square hall he paused and looked round him
before putting out the lights.
"Yes" (he yawned). "Ye-hes. I think we shall do very comfortably here
for the next seven years."
He was thinking of old Hyslop. He had given him seven years.
LXIV
The next day (it was a Friday), when Mary came home to tea after a
round of ineffectual calling she was told that Miss Gwenda was in the
drawing-room.
Mary inquired whether the doctor was in.
Dr. Rowcliffe was in but he was engaged in the surgery.
Mary thought she knew why Gwenda had come to-day.
For the last two or three Wednesdays Rowcliffe had left Garthdale
without calling at the Vicarage.
He had not meant to break his habit, but it happened so. For, this
year, Mary had decided to have a day, from May to October. And her day
was Wednesday.
Her sister had ignored her day, and Mary was offended.
She had every reason. Mary believed in keeping up appearances, and
the appearance she most desired to keep up was that of behaving
beautifully to her sister. This required her sister's co-operation. It
couldn't appear if Gwenda didn't. And Gwenda hadn't given it a chance.
She meant to have it out with her.
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