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Oh aye, aye, I did. He was one in a thousand, was Joe, one in a thousand.'\

286Bridget rose to her feet, saying now, I'll . . . I'll have to go now, Lily. The cab man is waiting. But . . .

but I would ask you one thing more. Would you come to live with me if I wasn't living at Milton Place?

You see, I have another house in Shields. In fact, it is my real home. I was born there, and I love it. But my father bought Milton Place so we could be nearer the Works and such. But were I to live in Shields permanently, would you come?'Lily turned from the fire, and after a moment of thought she said, * Tis very kind of you, miss, but I'll be all right where I am. An' you've been through enough worry because of what's happened. I'll always remember your kindness an' how you tried to save Joe. But . . . but I'll be all right.''Well, if you change your mind, Lily, I'll be only too willing to have you and the baby. But in the meantime, you will have this house rent free for as long as you care to live in it. And you will receive a pension that would have been owing to Joe if he had'- she paused-'lived to earn it.''Oh, miss.' Now there were tears in Lily's

287eyes as she murmured, 'You're a good lady. Joe . . . Joe always said this. And, you know, he once told me that when he was a lad he ... he had a soft spot for you. It was a great liberty, he knew, but he used to look forward to you comin' into the factory. He had a fight with one of the lads one day because they were chipping him about you. But as he grew older, he said he came to honour you. And he was right to honour you.*She couldn't bear this; she muttered now, 'Good-bye, Lily. I will call again soon,'

Then she went out hurriedly, arid gave her address to the cabbie; but, as soon as she had taken her seat and the cab had moved off, she covered her mouth tightly with her hand: he had felt the same way about her as she had about him all those years ago. How stiange. How strange. How cruel of fate: but for a class barrier they could have come together and he would have been alive today . , . No, no-she shook her head-that was imagining a fairy-tale corning true, and life was no fairy-tale, it was a period of years, long or short, barricaded by rules and regu-288lations according to the womb in which you were thrust and out of which you were born into a so-called class. And although within the bounds of one class there were variations, nevertheless such internal barriers could be crossed, but never, never, between the ruling classes and the working class.

Even in the middle class, where she was placed, such a misalliance would be social death for the woman.

A man in this class rarely made the mistake of marrying beneath him; he would take, what was called, a mistress; and, of course, this was acceptable.Joe had loved her, as a boy he had loved her, but then common sense had taken over.Damn common sense! Blast common sense! To hell with common sense!Oh dear God! what was the matter with her? She must get home and have a bath. And . . . and she must talk to someone; she was feeling desperate. But to whom could she talk about this?She could talk to Andrew.Yes, and what would he say? 'Cut off the allowance immediately.' And then Victoria would suffer. No, she couldn't do that.There was Douglas.

289Don't be stupid! woman; Douglas is Msbrother.So she was stuck with her knowledge; and, what was more, her burning hate of that man.

'What do you mean? You're selling this place?''Just what I said. I'm selling this place, Milton Place. I'm going back home to live in my real home, Meadow House. You know it?''Don't talk like that, Bridget.

Aren't you well?''Of course I am well.''You can't be. Why should you sell this place and speak as you did? Do I know our old home! What is wrong with you?''There is nothing wrong with me, Victoria. I am selling this house; in fact, it is already in the agent's hands.''But . . . but all this beautiful furniture and . .

.''Oh, I have seen to that. I'm taking most

291of it back with me and for the time being storing it in the attics until I get the old stables at the end of Five Acre Field rebuilt.'The stables rebuilt? What on earth for?''I'm not sure yet, but perhaps I'll turn them into a house,''You've got something on your mind?''Yes. Yes, I have Victoria. I'm going to try to persuade Lily to bring her child there and live with us. I shall find her a position and help to educate the boy.*'But . . . but why on earth should you do this? You've spent a tremendous amount of money already on the case. Mr Filmore said it must have cost you in the region of five hundred pounds if a penny.''No doubt, no doubt. Well, if Mr Filmore said that he must have been discussing the case. Did Lionel discuss it, too?''No, no, he didn't. He didn't want anything to do with it. He said it was a sordid affair.''Oh, he did, did he? And he doesn't like sordid affairs?''There is something wrong with you, Bridget. It's nothing new to me that you don't favour Lionel; but I don't know what's 292caused you to move all of a sudden. And . . . and what am I going to do for help, I mean when the baby comes? And who am I going to visit?'Bridget's voice was an absolute bark now as she turned from the dressing table where she had been sitting and rounded on Victoria, crying, 'You're married: you've got a home of your own; your husband has friends. Does he not take you to visit them? Do you not have visitors calling? You broke your neck to marry that man, now he should be all in all to you. There should be no need for you to want to visit me or anyone else.'Victoria took several steps backwards before she spoke; then in a high voice she exclaimed, 'You're jealous! That's what it is, you're jealous. You haven't got a husband; you haven't had a suitor, no one. You're jealous. Lionel was right. From the beginning he's said that you were of a jealous nature.''Lionel said that, did he? And much more, I suppose. Now look, Victoria'-Bridget's voice had dropped into a low flat tone-'I am busy, or I am about to be busy getting dressed for the evening to go out and into Newcastle to have dinner with ... a 293[suitor. Now go back and tell your dear Liomel that, will you? And as for yourself, rny (advice to you is: grow up and face the fact that you're a married woman who is about to become a mother. You are also the mistress of a large house, and I should imagine you'd be happier if you learnt to rule your staff instead of whining about them and I what they don't do and what they should do. Now, Victoria, have I made my feelings as plain to you as you have made your feelings plain to me? We are both on different footings now. Recognize that. If you wish to visit me in future, I shall be in Shields.''I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. You're cruel. Something has changed you . . . someone has changed you. As I've said before, I think you're ill. And as for taking that girl and her baby, I think you must be mad. But then, people thought you must be, going to all the trouble and the fuss in bringing that advocate from London.

And all for a workman in a blacking factory. People were made to wonder, you know. People talk. It's been said you always favoured him.''Yes. Yes, you're quite right, Victoria, I al-294ways favoured him; but I don't consider that a mistake. I do though consider that I made a great mistake over the years in favouring you and spoiling you. What I should have done after Father died was let you work for your living instead of allowing you to dress up like a doll. Now get out of my sight before I say more things that I'll be sorry for, yes, indeed, I'll be sorry for, and you, too. Get out.*Victoria actually backed towards the door, her eyes wide, and her mouth opened twice as if she were about to say something more but then thought better of it, and now she scrambled from the room leaving the door wide.Slowly Bridget walked towards it, and, after closing it, she leant against it, and a full minute passed before she drew herself from its support and returned to the dressing table, where she sat staring at herself in the mirror: her face was flushed red, her eyes looked bright and hard, the green standing out prominently in them as it always did when she was angry. They were now demanding of her reflection, Had she ever thought of Victoria as a loving sister? Yes, 295she had. Had they ever spent happy years together? Yes, they had. Had she ever been jealous of her? No, never. Then what had come over them? What had come over them, she now told herself, was that Victoria had fallen in love with a waster, a man who had to be bribed in order to carry out his promise of marrying; and from then nothing had gone right.She rose from the stool and went to the wardrobe to change her dress to go to Newcastle in order to dine with Mr Kemp, when undoubtedly before, during, and after the meal, business would be discussed, and this would include her latest move.So much for the suitor.It was a week later and late on a Saturday evening when Jessie, opening the drawingroom door, said, 'Mr Douglas has called, miss. He would like a word with you.'Bridget had been on the point of going upstairs to bed and she found herself pausing before she said, 'Show him in.' The pause had not been occasioned by the fact that it was late, nor that she was tired and ready for bed, but because, since the day he had seen

296her home after her last visit to Joe, he had never called; in fact, this particular visit was the first time she had seen him since her outburst in the carriage, whereas she had expected him, knowing the state she had been in and imagining he would be concerned enough for her, to visit her the next day.He came in hurriedly, saying, 'I'm . . . I'm sorry, Bridget, to be calling so late but I've just arrived back from Allendale, where I've been for the last five days. I went to see a friend who lives up in the hills. Just a little cottage. We don't see much of each other but . . . but she's a dear person.' At this he stopped, drew in a long breath, then said, Tm gabbling on, but I thought I should explain my absence/'Five days; but it is some time since I last saw you, Douglas. I thought you must have been very busy with your work.'He took a step nearer to her and again he drew in a long breath before speaking: 'I wasn't too busy with my work,' he said. 'There was a reason for my not calling, even though I know I should have, for when I last saw you, you were in distress. But there was a reason, I assure you, and I really am sorry 297I can't give it to you. For that matter I wonder if I ever shall.'She was not a little puzzled by his answer, and also that he had a friend, in a little cottage and that she was 'a dear', He was saying now,

'But enough of me. What is this I'm hearing, that you are leaving this house? Why, Bridget?'She walked away from him and sat down on the seat she had left only moments before, and, pointing to the couch, she said, 'Sit down, Douglas.' And when he was seated, she tried to answer him: 'Like you, I cannot give an honest or full reason for my actions, but I can tell you this much; I want to house Lily and see that her child is well brought up.''Oh! Well yes, I can understand that, and yet only in a way because it isn't Joe's child, and you're doing this for ... for Joe.'Why was it, he asked himself now, that he always found it difficult to voice that man's name? He had already implied that he understood her feelings for the man, but he still couldn't fully accept the fact that she could have fallen in love with one of her own workmen, one who had apparently worked

298in the blacking factory since he was a child, because she had a dignity about her. She always appeared to be a superior person, unmistakably class. And so he was surprised now when she said harshly, 'I know it wasn't Joe's child, but it was someone's, wasn't it?''Yes, it was someone's. He apparently knew who the father was but he wouldn't say.''No, he didn't say because he didn't want to hurt anyone.''What do you mean?''Just what I say, Douglas: Joe didn't want to hurt anyone. If he had named the man he would indeed have hurt a number of people. As he saw it, and as I thought I also saw it, it wouldn't have done his case any good. Yet, I don't know.'As she turned from him, he came back at her harshly, saying, 'Well, as I see it now, you know much more about the matter than you did earlier.

Has his wife confided in you?''Perhaps.''Oh, Bridget'-he turned his head to the side-'she has, or she hasn't; perhaps means she has. But even so, I cannot imagine how 299the revelation, even if it had come earlier, could have hurt anyone outside . . . well, their own circle.*'Oh, you can't, can you not? So you think it is impossible for a girl to be seduced by anyone outside, what you call, her own circle? If that's the case you must be very naive about the facts of life.'He laughed. 'I'm a very naive fellow altogether,' he said. *I should have thought you had found that out by now: I believe everything I'm told.''Oh yes'-she nodded her head vigorously -'I know that.' Then she went on, 'Well, you can believe this. I'll be very glad to leave this house and this district. I've never felt at home here. My home is in Shields, and that's where I'm going."She continued to look at him, waiting for some response, and when none was forthcoming, her manner changing and her voice soft now, she said, The only thing I'll miss, Douglas, will be your visits.''Oh, shall I not be allowed to visit you in Shields?''Of course, of course, but ... but the distance, it's more than a ten-minute canter.'

300'Well, there are still the trains and the horse bus and, lastly, my legs.'She smiled now at him as she said, 'You'll be very welcome any time, because, of all the people I've met since we've lived here, you are the only one I can call friend.''That's good to know, Bridget. But I think you could have made many more friends, at least from our house, if you had given them the chance. Father, you know, is quite fond of you. He admires you tremendously. And Lionel . . . well, I feel he would have been only too pleased to call in with Victoria if . . .'Not only was he startled by her response but her reaction startled herself, for she actually shouted at him, 'Make a friend of him! Don't you mention his name to me. That man . . . that man! he's the reason . . .' Her hand was on her throat now, checking the flow that had been vehement.As Douglas in some amazement watched her struggling for breath, his thoughts were leaping back over the conversation that had passed between them since he had entered the room. He knew, of course, and with reason that she didn't like Lionel; and who

301would, when she had practically to pay him, no, not practically, actually pay him to marry her cousin in order to keep that feather-brained girl happy? But she had scarcely met him since. Yet a moment ago she had been enraged at the mention of his name. Why? As if working at a jigsaw, his mind began picking up pieces of conversation that had passed between them. It ranged over the reasons she had given for leaving the house, and then the defence of that girl and her baby. Then it stopped, as he recalled her attitude when she had suggested that the girl had been seduced not by one of her own class but . .