and Mrs. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. He was staring at her, openly gaping. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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