LOW SOCIETY 
 
By the same Author 
 
 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 There is no one writing more truthfully 
 of low London life than Mr. Halifax.* 
 There is the right stuff in his work.* 
 "Borderland " is a powerful story with 
 some very striking passages, and it has 
 a healthy, manly tone. It should be 
 read by everybody interested in social 
 work.8 It is a bit of life, transcribed by 
 a master hand ;* and it has the merit of 
 bringing the reader face to face with the 
 real problems which the modern social 
 reformer has to solve if he can.^ 
 
 1 Manchester Guardian. 3 Punch. 3 Clarion. 
 * Glasgotv Ne-ii/s. 5 Scotsman. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT HALIFAX 
 
 Author of " T:he Borderland^" 
 " T:he Drums of Fate;' etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO 
 t9iz 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
 271819 
 
LOW SOCIETY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " Oh, fond love ! " (pinka-pinka-pong). 
 
 " Oh, fair dove 1 " (ting-a-ling-ling). 
 
 " Oh, love with the white, white breast ! " (pong !). 
 
 " Let me alone, the dream is me own. . . ." 
 
 ** It's a banjo," said the small boy on the pave- 
 ment outside. This critic's trousers were held in 
 position by a piece of string, and he v^^as mostly 
 concerned, while standing deceptively upright, in 
 manoeuvring a puddle so that it overlapped the 
 feet of other listeners. 
 
 " Bet you a sovereign. Bet you five ! " said his 
 sister, crushingly. Like himself, and hundreds of 
 other children in Barking Town, she had no per- 
 sonal experience of shoes or stockings ; but set 
 against this was the intellectual compensation pro- 
 vided by a very fine Free Library round the corner. 
 " Think I dunno ? It's a jew's-harp and a woman 
 on a grammerphone." 
 
 It was neither, as Mr. Shadd rather acidly 
 explained to the knot of people in the shop. Being 
 purchasers, these were entitled to criticize; and 
 they did so freely and feelingly. It was his 
 
 L.s. B 
 
2 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 daughter singing, accompanied by a brand-new 
 American musical invention which kept time and 
 tune to anything in reason — and which, as he 
 observed, was not everybody's acquisition. He 
 could not afford to boast, but, as a matter of simple 
 fact, he doubted if the King himself had one quite 
 like it. 
 
 " It's marvellous, whatever it is," said Mrs. 
 Scrannell, impressively, as she slid forward a pro- 
 blematical piece of bacon. Her turn had arrived. 
 " I wasn't born to know one blessed note from 
 another, but that there thing's lifelike. Ah, you're 
 a-lookin' up, Mr. Shadd ; you're goin' up in the 
 world." She hitched her shawl -ends tightly to- 
 gether, and waited. 
 
 This was the crucial moment, traditionally in- 
 separable from every purchase at Shadd's which 
 required weighing ; and everyone watched — not 
 the scales, but Mr. Shadd's mouth. It screwed 
 up ; it began to emit tentative, whistling sounds. 
 
 •* F— f— f— " The thrill deepened—for Mrs. 
 Scrannell, at all events. Mr. Shadd, who spoke 
 quite fluently at other times, invariably developed 
 a stammer — or, rather, a series of retarding sniffs 
 — as his scales swung. You never could tell. It 
 seemed a mere toss-up whether, in this particular 
 instance, his ** F — f — f — " would materialize into 
 "fourpence" or "fivepence." **F — f — fivepence- 
 ha 'penny ! " 
 
 Sympathetic silence, while he wrapped up the 
 bacon. As one injured Mrs. Scrannell paid her 
 money and flung away. " Said he was a-lookin' 
 up, didn't I?" she observed audibly to another 
 lady, in passing. " You can have a lot o' parties 
 
LOW SOCIETY 3 
 
 and screechin' barrel-organs on short weight. 
 What d' you say? " 
 
 ** Well, there you are I " said the other lady, 
 compelled to ambiguity. Her piece of cheese was 
 on the scale, and Mr. Shadd's mouth had twisted. 
 
 " T — t — t — threepence. That do? " 
 
 ** Have to do, if you can't make it tuppence." 
 She looked round, and caught sight of a fugitive 
 ham-bone. ** Selina's birthday, is it? Fancy ! I 
 never knew she could sing like that." 
 
 ** Oh, she can sing," said Mr. Shadd, with the 
 aloof air of one not disposed to tell everyone that 
 his daughter had refused to lead the chorus at 
 Covent Garden. "Anything more?" 
 
 ** Er — no 1 I was jest lookin' at that queer 
 shank — that's all. I see there's nothin' on it." 
 
 " Nothing on it? " Mr. Shadd held it out and 
 turned it all ways. " That's meat — and so's that 
 —and that. That'll sell." 
 
 •* Well, don't be so huffy, Mr. Shadd. I was 
 only thinkin*. How much? " 
 
 " S — s — s — " He scratched his head, and turned 
 the bone over again. ** S — s — s — sevenpence- 
 ha*penny to you ! " 
 
 " I'll send our dog round for it." 
 
 She walked out. Not at all hurt or surprised, 
 Mr. Shadd stooped to wipe his hands on an invi- 
 sible cloth that had done long and staunch service, 
 and rose to the remaining customers . One required 
 a bundle of wood ; another, a halfpennyworth of 
 mixed pickles in a very large basin. As the third 
 had waited for a two -ounce packet of Somebody's 
 tea, and Mr. Shadd never departed from his own 
 special blend, the shop was soon clear again for 
 
 B 2 
 
4 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 another brief spell. Mr. Shadd looked round for 
 the boy who was paid fourpence to call out 
 ** Shop ! " and look business-like for two evenings 
 a week. 
 
 "At them biscuits again?" he said, sternly. 
 " That's the last time. If I see you near the tub 
 again, I'll stop your character. So mind ! " 
 
 There was a door behind him, jealously cur- 
 tained for the occasion. Opening it quickly, to 
 avoid letting out too much of the. gaiety and gran- 
 deur, he passed as from one world into another . 
 
 Little Chinese lanterns hung in festoons from 
 wall to wall, mostly dripping grease unnoticed ; 
 the new rose -pink globes lent another touch of 
 romance, that reflected itself in fair cheeks and 
 small bits of exposed bosom ; and over all bellied 
 the gorgeous inscription — ** Many happy returns 
 of the day " — which Selina's young man had spent 
 a fortnight in cutting out of tinsel paper and past- 
 ing on a crimson cloth. It was a labour of love 
 which conceivably had exhausted his interest in 
 the affair, as at the moment of Mr. Shadd's 
 re-entry he was sitting pronouncedly apart, with 
 arms crossed, and a fixed, moody expression. 
 Selina's duet with the " clever instrument " had 
 ended ; a dance " gallop " kept all the furniture 
 in a rattle. 
 
 "What's all this?" Mr. Shadd whispered 
 anxiously to his wife. " Won't he eat? Haven't 
 we made enough of him? " 
 
 ** 'Tisn't that," she whispered back. She was a 
 wispy, faded woman with spectacles, whose idea 
 of playing hostess had turned out to be to stand 
 timidly in a corner, nodding and smiling mechani- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 5 
 
 cally at any of the company who caught her eye. 
 Whenever any of the dancers butted into her, she 
 said : " Oh, my 1 There now ! " as if she enjoyed 
 it, and resumed her nodding. " 'Tisn't that. 
 You should have shut the shop. You've made 
 yourself look cheap, as you invariably do." 
 
 Mr. Shadd stared askance at Selina's young 
 man. The latter stared past as if unaware of any 
 sound or movement about him, much less of 
 undercurrents. 
 
 " The shop's nothing to do with this," retorted 
 Mr. Shadd. "Where's your blind eyes? Stop 
 Selina galloping and giggling up and down with 
 that fast-and-loose young Sanders. Stop it this 
 instant, or she'll lose him and his money 1 " 
 
 " Shall I tell her someone wants her outside 
 a minute ? " 
 
 ** Yes — if you want me to box her ears and 
 upset everything. The young hussy I — I see what 
 it is. She's started her games already, to make 
 him show jealousy ; and he's fell into it. And — 
 just look at Casswade ! You're a beauty to leave 
 in charge of a birthday party, you are. Look at 
 him — nearly black in the face 1 " 
 
 His hasty rush round the room was justified. 
 At all times bluff and aggressive in manner, Mr. 
 Casswade's aspect at this juncture was unnerving 
 in view of the fact that only under abnormal pres- 
 sure had he been prevailed upon to suspend his 
 social superiority and put in two hours with the 
 Shadds on this exceptional occasion — '* Jest as a 
 favour, mind ; Fm not everybody's * how-d'-ye- 
 do ? ' " A special chair, table, and decanter had 
 been set apart for Mr. Casswade near the fire- 
 
6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 place, and he had been ushered into the room like 
 an Eastern potentate ; but, somehow or other, the 
 young persons present had overcome their awe and 
 allowed him to slip into the background. When, 
 several times during Mr. Shadd's absence, he had 
 opened his mouth to speak, some gust of merri- 
 ment had swamped him ; and gradually the little, 
 fish -like eyes in Casswade's face had sunk almost 
 out of sight in proportion as his cheeks took on an 
 apoplectic bulge. In short, as Casswade set down 
 his glass with a bang, he was obviously on the 
 point of rising and departing without any 
 ceremony. 
 
 ** Another drop I — just a wee taste 1 " said Mr. 
 Shadd in his ear, feverishly. " Try something 
 different. I'm sure, you're drinking nothing — on 
 Selina's birthday, too ! And, here you haven't 
 touched the cigars 1 " 
 
 "Haven't I?" Casswade muttered, allowing 
 himself to subside a little. ** Oh, yes, I have. 
 And don't get any more like 'em, that's all — not 
 when I'm asked." He thumped the small table. 
 ** If I'd thought I wasn't goin' to be allowed to 
 hear myself even speak, I wouldn't have come ; 
 and that's plain." 
 
 " You see," breathed the other, hastily, " tliis 
 isn't what you might call a grown-up 
 reception " 
 
 *' No, you're right there." Casswade shifted 
 ominously in the best arm-chair. ** It's a recep- 
 tion of bloomin' upstarts and fools, from what I 
 can make of it. But go on — don't let me keep 
 you out o' the shop." 
 
 "Business is business, isn't it?" Mr. Shadd 
 
LOW SOCIETY 7 
 
 suggested, meekly. ** You were always of that 
 way of thinking yourself, weren't you? Do have 
 something to take, Mr. Casswade— try a little 
 cider in it 1 *' 
 
 ** Cider? My dear man, there ain't such a 
 thing to be got — in Barkin' — at your price. Of 
 course, I don't expect — ■■ — " 
 
 '* Of course not 1 " It was a joyful sign that 
 Mr. Casswade's eyes had begun to reappear from 
 behind the bulge of flesh. They must be induced 
 right out, at any cost. ** As I said, we felt we 
 must at some time or other begin to feel our feet, 
 and give the girl a chance to meet with her 
 equals ; and it being her birthday " 
 
 " Oh, cert'nly — cert'nly 1 Not that I ever had 
 a birthday, or ever wanted one. Decent girl, I 
 dessay, when she's had the corners knocked off — 
 which isn't yet by any means. And a fairish voice, 
 no doubt, if she didn't sing so loud." 
 
 ** Loud I " said Mr. Shadd, crestfallen. " Well, 
 seeing I've been paying ten shillings a quarter this 
 last six weeks to have it " 
 
 " So you said. I don't want to hear all 
 that. Money wasted. You should have put it 
 into bricks and mortar, same as I did. Look at 
 me, now ! — and look at you 1 " 
 
 ** Ah, indeed 1 " Mr. Shadd, duly impressed, 
 thought it politic to turn the topic. " What did 
 you think, yourself, of Selina's young man? " he 
 ventured, carelessly. 
 
 "Me? Which is Selina's young man? " Cass- 
 wade demanded. " I can't see him ; they all 
 look alike to me, in this bluster." 
 
 '* Can't see Selina's young man? " Mr. Shadd 
 
8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 whispered it almost in horror. " Haven't you 
 been introduced? Why, that's him — the fair, 
 shortish one, with the pale, freckled look and 
 green tie — facing this way. I wouldn't — I mean, 
 he's rather nervous of being looked at for long, I 
 fancy." 
 
 "Him?" Mr. Casswade brought his thick 
 neck round so that he could glare with a bull -like 
 intensity at the young man indicated. " Well, I 
 don't think much of him, whatever your daughter 
 does. Is he after her, or your shop, or what? " 
 
 ** Oh, it's a case of pure love," confided the 
 other. '* At least, she says so. He's got money 
 of his own, you know — how much, we should really 
 like to find out, for her sake ; only, from what we 
 can gather, he doesn't quite know what to do 
 with it." 
 
 " Oh 1 " Casswade's dislike at sight visibly 
 modified. ** I'd like to have a word with him. I 
 maintain he can't do better than put it into bricks 
 and mortar, same as I've done. What is he, and 
 who is he ? I thought I knew everybody in Barkin' 
 worth knowin'." 
 
 " Well — 'er — at present he's employed in some- 
 thing at Beckton, we understand ; but hopes " 
 
 '* That's enough." Mr. Casswade wheeled round 
 to spit into the fire. " If that's her taste — a per- 
 manent stink o' gas. Chinamen and sewers — 
 Beckton !— well ! " 
 
 '* Quite so," the other hurried on, artfully refill- 
 ing the glasses. " But the money's there, right 
 enough. The only mystery is — how much. We 
 thought, if they could start some business together, 
 say, in " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 9 
 
 "Yes — in what?" The glass was suspended 
 near Cass wade's lips. ** In what? " 
 
 " Well, we've got to ascertain. It might be a 
 milliner's, or a fish shop " 
 
 " Then, you ain't goin' to make him buy his 
 own house ? He's goin' to keep her payin' rent all 
 her bloomin' life when she could end up with a 
 street of houses — like me?" And Mr. Shadd 
 fumbled a hand nervously over his mouth a 
 moment. 
 
 ** Well, you see, we haven't all got your special 
 gift in that line, Mr. Casswade. I know two or 
 three who " 
 
 ** Two or three stark idiots. Gift be blowed. 
 Houses mean money. Look at me ! " 
 
 " Yes, I am looking at you," he had to say, 
 although he was looking the other way. " What 
 I mean is, he might think of it ; but I fancy Selina 
 thinks she knows too much to — er — let him " 
 
 ** You mean, she ain't buyin' one o* my houses ? 
 Well, let him shove his money down the nearest 
 drain -pipe, for all I care I " 
 
 And it was almost providential that at this 
 instant the voice of the boy beyond was heard 
 roaring out ** Shop ! " For Mr. Casswade, with a 
 deep breath, had half risen again. 
 
 Left alone with second thoughts, he subsided 
 once more, and sat deep in tense reflection. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 "What do you think of him?" Selina was 
 enquiring, with a side-nod in the direction of Mr. 
 Casswade. She had detached herself at last from 
 the fast -and -loose Sanders, sat down beside the 
 freckled young man with the pale look, and was 
 fanning herself demurely. 
 
 "Who?" he asked, stonily. It took George 
 Baversham more than a few seconds to get over 
 his first spasm of jealousy ; and he meant her to 
 divine that very possibly he never would get 
 over it. 
 
 " Why, that's Mr. Matt Casswade. You must 
 know him I — he's got whole streets of new houses 
 to let or sell round about here. He'd have been 
 on the Council — very likely Mayor — if he could 
 read and write. Don't be silly, dear ! " She 
 darted her closed fan into his waistcoat, somewhere 
 over his heart. And the young man started and 
 drew himself up as stiffly as was possible in a 
 sitting position. 
 
 " Thank you for breaking my watch," he said. 
 " No> I don't know any thin' about the gentleman, 
 except that I shouldn't like to keep him in drink. 
 Is he any relation of yours, may I ask ? " 
 
 ** Well, not quite what you would term a rela- 
 tion," she admitted, looking with a provoking 
 dreaminess into his flushed face. " But we've 
 
LOW SOCIETY II 
 
 known him for years, in a way. He's very nice — 
 if you can get on with him. And rich ! — he says 
 himself he doesn't know what he's worth — only it's 
 all locked up in property. Wasn't it good of him 
 to come so informal on my birthday ? Do you 
 think we shall ever have property? " she enquired, 
 with another stimulating dart at his waistcoat. 
 
 ** Don't do that ! " George half shouted. He 
 went white this time. " If you're goin' to play the 
 fool with me, jest to show off before your dressed- 
 up friends " 
 
 ** Oh, very well ; that's enough." Selina 
 stood up, fanning languidly. The excitement of 
 the occasion had certainly churned a little feminine 
 devilment in her, to Mrs. Shadd's undisguised and 
 nodding dismay. ** Perhaps you're put out because 
 I had my bodice cut rather low for to-night. 
 Most men would have said whether they liked it 
 — or disliked it, as the case may be." 
 
 ** The case is, that I never noticed it," he 
 replied, coldly, keeping his eyes quite away from 
 the bosom that just then was swelling effectively. 
 
 " I must say," Selina whispered, " in some ways 
 you're a perfect pig." 
 
 '* Think so ? If I was a pig, I might have 
 noticed it — probably should." 
 
 *' Meaning you think me just the sort to 
 encourage pigs ? " 
 
 " Well, the right sort of man seemed to fasten 
 on you at once, didn't he? I dessay he said 
 whether he liked it, more than once." 
 
 Selina, avoiding her mother's painful stare, 
 tittered. But she was not disposed to go too far 
 on the first occasion. 
 
12 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** Mr. Sanders? I thought the fat was in the 
 fire/' she said, softly. "As it happens, he did ; 
 and he got as good as he gave. Come to that, 
 I hate the man ; but I'm not going to tell him so 
 to his face, for you or anyone. I hate any man 
 that can't keep himself steady and runs after 
 every woman he fancies. Oh, I know ; I've heard 
 all about his little goings-on. I suppose you're 
 steady, when you're out of sight? — I've never 
 asked you, although it's my perfect right," she 
 added, with a casualness that did not quite conceal 
 her keen desire to know. 
 
 ** Middlin'," George muttered, with indifference 
 to match. " If I'm not, I'm clever enough to keep 
 it to myself." 
 
 " Ah I " She would have died sooner than 
 betray the quickened movements of her corsage. 
 ** I begin to think I hate all men ! " 
 
 ** Rather a pity your wearin' one's ring, then. 
 Looks as if you're quite ready to take any risk that 
 way, doesn't it ? " 
 
 "I'm not so sure, George." She slid it tenta- 
 tively up and down the finger on which, with Mr. 
 Shadd's dramatic consent, he had placed it three 
 hours previously. " Second thoughts are funny 
 things at times, aren't they? S'pose I did take it 
 into my head I wouldn't bind myself down to any 
 man who can't prove he's been all he ought to be : 
 I s'pose you'd be found with a gas-bag or some- 
 thing of that strapped to your nose? " 
 
 " Me? " The allusion to that organ under such 
 circumstances appeared to tickle George, by the 
 derisive snort he gave. '* What I Don't you ever 
 run away with that idea. Why " — he snapped his 
 
LOW SOCIETY 13 
 
 finger and thumb — " I could go out and find 
 another girl inside an hour." 
 
 ** And a nice beauty she'd be ! ... Go out 
 and find her, then ! " 
 
 Selina had stood very still and lofty for a 
 moment, and then, under cover of her spread fan, 
 burst into tears. It scared George as nothing else 
 could have done. He glanced round nervously, 
 not at all like a man inured to callous debauchery. 
 
 " Stop that," he said between set teeth. 
 "Selina I You don't s'pose I meant it, do you? 
 Be quiet — quick I I never said anything at all 1 *' 
 
 •* Oh — oh — yes, you did. And— and very likely 
 she's outside, and knows more about you than 
 I do." 
 
 " Listen ; look here," George said, in a voice 
 gone suddenly deep ; " if anyone but you said such 
 a thing as that about me, I'd swing for him at 
 Newgate an hour later. Believe that? " 
 
 And Selina took the little square of lace from 
 her eyes. The unlikely swiftness of the hypothe- 
 tical trial and execution for murder quite escaped 
 her. 
 
 " I don't know what to believe," she faltered. 
 " Women are not supposed to know anything. I 
 do know that you've spoilt my face for the even- 
 ing, and " 
 
 " Don't be silly. Spoil that I Keep it down 
 till you're out o' the room, and just run and sluice 
 it. Go on, dear ! That old Casswade keeps 
 lookin' at us. Here's your father back again — I 
 don't want him to begin askin' what's the matter. 
 I can't stand bein' jawed at ; and I won't have any 
 interference between me and my wife— that will 
 be." 
 
14 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " That's a nice way to put it I " she whispered. 
 Nevertheless, she was considerably soothed by the 
 marital reference, and perhaps not at all displeased 
 if any of the company had noticed how quickly her 
 tears brought him to his senses. " If you'd sit 
 like this on my birthday, like a bear in the back 
 of its cage, how would you be after we're man and 
 wife? That's what I've got to ask myself." 
 
 ** I should be just what you made me, same as 
 any other man. Isn't that fair enough? " 
 
 Selina pondered. Someone had started to sing 
 " The Holy City," and attention was further dis- 
 tracted by the chatter of those who did not care 
 for that song. Besides, it was not often that 
 Selina could induce her young man to state his 
 real views as to future domestic details. It 
 seemed deliciously like taking a surreptitious peep 
 into the bridal chamber beforehand. 
 
 " I shall expect a lot," she said, ethereally. 
 *' For one thing, I couldn't bear a husband that 
 grew stout, or anything of that — unless he grew 
 stout all over, of course. And " 
 
 " Do I look like it ? " he enquired, hurt. " Do 
 I ? Besides, if I did, could I help myself ? One 
 thing and another, you're goin' beyond all bounds, 
 you are." 
 
 ** No ; it only just struck me — if you did happen 
 to get like Mr. Casswade. I couldn't come near 
 you, or walk out with you, and that's the solemn 
 truth. But he drinks a good deal, of course." 
 
 " Does he? Oh 1 you mean, when other people 
 pay for it," George sneered. " I'm no particular 
 class myself, p'r'aps ; but if I looked as if I laid 
 under a barrel-tap all night " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 15 
 
 " Never mind Mr. Casswade/' she put in, 
 hastily. George, transparently, had conceived a 
 silly antipathy at sight toward the wealthy friend 
 of the family ; it must be removed — but not just 
 now, when the topic was approaching the semi- 
 sacred so nicely. She sank her voice almost to 
 nothing. " Some husbands don't kiss their wives 
 so much after marriage, do they? — and drop all 
 their little fondling ways ? " 
 
 *• Well," George said, obstinately, " that all 
 depends on whether the woman keeps herself as 
 kissable as she did before. Would with me ! " 
 
 ** But she can't always be dressed-up and — and 
 dainty, as you call it, when she's got her work to 
 do? And men like their meals, and their litter 
 cleared away, goodness knows." 
 
 ** Yes, I do myself," he admitted. *' Fact of it 
 is, it's like this : women expect a sight too much 
 in that way. And there you are ! Strictly speak- 
 ing, a man makes a fool of himself before mar- 
 riage, cuddlin' and all that sort o' thing " 
 
 " You don't," Selina whispered in. He was not 
 sure whether to take it as a touch of pride in him 
 or otherwise. 
 
 " Don't I ? Well, at any rate, nine out of ten 
 do. And then, when he gets over it a bit " 
 
 "Why should he?" she enquired, narrowly. 
 ** A woman doesn't. Why doesn't he get tired of 
 his meals, by the same rule ? A woman always 
 feels the same — if he'll let her ; and thinks just as 
 much of a man in his old clothes — so they say." 
 
 And George felt that he could take out a 
 cigarette and smoke it now complacently. 
 
 " So they say," he repeated. " You go in the 
 
1 6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 park, and look at all the hens struttin' round the 
 peacock — human and otherwise. That's enough ; 
 I know all about it." 
 
 Selina drew a long breath, looked round, and 
 was relieved to see that somebody else — palpably 
 to Mr. Casswade's swelling disgust — had volun- 
 teered to recite if anyone present could imitate 
 sleigh-bells and wolves' howls at a distance. 
 Several could, it seemed, and were rehearsing 
 beforehand, while the recitation was being written 
 out as " prompter's " index to the howls and bells. 
 In the mixture of sound, Selina was able unnoticed 
 to draw up her chair and sit so that her knees 
 touched George's knees. He was thus cornered by 
 Love, and had the tinted gas-light nicely across 
 his face, too, as a guide to dissimulation. 
 
 " There's only one little thing I think I ought 
 to ask you, now we're together — now we're en- 
 gaged, I mean," she said. " There's a lot in it, 
 so don't laugh. Supposing we ever had a tiff — 
 supposing we did — would you expect me to give 
 way? Because I couldn't." 
 
 ** Why not? " demanded George, astounded. 
 
 '* Could you? " she parried, very earnestly. 
 
 " Of course I could, if I knew I was in the 
 wrong." 
 
 ** Ah, then, you never would ! And that's just 
 it : if we're going to wrangle and squabble all our 
 lives, perhaps — perhaps after all it's best if we 
 kept as we are." 
 
 ** What d'you mean? " George queried, keenly. 
 ** That I'm goin' to walk you out year after year, 
 and buy you gold rings and sweets, and come here 
 on your birthday, and get nothin' for it ? A good 
 
LOW SOCIETY 17 
 
 idea, I admit ; but if that's what women expect of 
 a man — well, I hope you'll find one made to fit. 
 But it won't be Baversham." 
 
 " You're so practical." Selina seemed doubt- 
 ful whether to burst into tears again or not. ** You 
 know I don't mean that. I mean " 
 
 *' Yes ; what the hell do you mean ? " he asked, 
 with warmth. And Selina drew back witheringly. 
 
 •* That's nice — swearing on my birthday, now 1 
 It's the first time I knew you swore — to me, at any 
 rate." 
 
 " Don't be silly. If a man can't speak out plain 
 before your face, you know he does it behind your 
 back. It's rubbish talkin' anythin' about what's 
 goin' to happen after marriage ; let's get married, 
 and see. When I was a boy, and bought a ha'penny 
 prize packet, did I go back snivellin' because there 
 wasn't a threepenny -bit in it ? No. And I shouldn't 
 expect you to go comin' back to your father's, 
 and sayin' I was mean, or was gettin' stout, or 
 made you work, or anythin' o' that, I can assure 
 you. I don't know what's the matter with you to- 
 night, and that's plain." 
 
 Selina wiped her eyes, but thought it best not 
 to try and explain more fully. George, it seemed 
 clear, had no unprobed depths to speak of. 
 
 " Father was wondering," she turned off, a little 
 absently, " what sort of business would really suit 
 us best, and if our tastes were alike, and about how 
 much you felt you could afford to put into it as 
 a " 
 
 *' Ha 1 " George crossed his legs very firmly, 
 and hugged the knees. " I know. And that's 
 jest what I'm not goin' to tell him or anyone else. 
 
 L.s. c 
 
1 8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 What I've got, I've got. I don't want it all round 
 Barkin' that I'm stumped at fifty pounds — or a 
 thousand." 
 
 " I should think not, dear ! " Selina said, thrilled 
 at the financial margin. " What I mean is, if we 
 did venture anything of the sort, you wouldn't 
 expect me to serve behind the counter, would 
 you?" 
 
 " I should," he said, '* when you haven't any- 
 thin' else to do — certainly, if you're my legal 
 wife." And Selina sat slowly back. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think I shall get married ! " she 
 said, fanning herself furiously. 
 
 "You don't? Did you think I should take a 
 shop and put a dummy in it, while you were 
 upstairs with the ' Family Herald ' and the 
 baby? " 
 
 ** No ! " Her face flamed with a rush. " But 
 I thought you cared for me a little bit, and didn't 
 want to see me worn to death and — and get to look 
 like father and mother, as fiat as my own cheese — 
 as greasy as my own bacon. Father has, at least, 
 kept me above that, and paid money to have me — 
 oh, I don't want to talk to you to-night ! You've 
 come in a vile temper — because you've had to 
 spend two pounds on my ring, I suppose. It's all 
 I shall ever get, I can see that." 
 
 " Be careful," George warned, darkly. " You're 
 runnin' on. I've stood a lot to-night. I haven't 
 forgotten the Sanders bis'ness yet, if you have." 
 
 " Do you — do you mean that you're going to 
 pick a quarrel with him — and fight — over me? " 
 she gasped. 
 
 " Fight ? " George reflected. To say " Yes " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 19 
 
 would be to commit himself to an undertaking she 
 might enjoy ; to say '* No " would be to leave a 
 suspicion of his physical fitness. "Wait ! " he 
 temporised. " You don't need any preparations 
 and sparrin' about when you're goin' to tread on a 
 beetle — or a ladybird, if you like that better." 
 
 " But what's he done? " Selina persisted, appa- 
 rently amazed. 
 
 ** He's an over-dressed, under -fed fop ; that's 
 all." 
 
 " Good gracious 1 And lots of people think him 
 quite good-looking and taking." 
 
 ** So they do a wax model in a tailor's window." 
 
 ** How funny ! " She laughed out, glad of the 
 chance. " That's just what he is — a tailor's 
 cutter." 
 
 ** I knew it," said George, with a calmness that 
 covered the falsehood. ** But he's not cuttin' your 
 weddin' dress, or takin* your measure at any birth- 
 day party again ; so there ! And come to that, if 
 you'd prefer to keep single, I'm not goin' to put 
 myself out to persuade you. So p'r'aps that's 
 settled for the best." 
 
 " Shop ! " roared out the boy beyond the cur- 
 tained door, above the din. 
 
 And the irritating frequency of this summons, 
 combined with the general inanity of things 
 around, seemed to decide Mr. Casswade. For 
 the fifth time he had just begun on his deliberate 
 diatribe : *' I maintain that if a man really means 
 bis'ness, I don't care who or what he is, bricks 
 
 and mortar " And for the fifth time Mr. 
 
 Shadd's precipitate dart for the shop left him talk- 
 ing to fools and upstarts. 
 
 C 2 
 
20 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** That's done it," Casswade breathed, to him- 
 self. 
 
 He finished the contents of the decanter at a 
 gulp, waited a moment to avoid any appearance 
 of mere pique, and then was moving ponderously 
 for the exit. His out-door toilet on all week- 
 days consisted of the peaked-cap stuffed in his 
 side -pocket. 
 
 " Can't stand too much o' this excitement," he 
 said, huskily, to Mrs. Shadd, who was still nodding 
 at all and sundry from her corner. *' I'll say 
 g'night." 
 
 ** Going? " asked Mr. Shadd, in faint dismay. 
 He had just weighed a half of shilling fresh, and 
 in his chagrin made it come to " S — s — s — seven- 
 pence 1 That do?" "Well, you needn't have 
 left us this way, Mr. Casswade ; there's the side- 
 entrance, I hope. Here, perhaps you'll take a 
 couple of new-laid eggs to beat up before break- 
 fast ? Do 1 " 
 
 "How come you by new-laid 'uns ? " asked 
 Casswade, turning at the outer door suspiciously. 
 
 " Now, now ! " Mr. Shadd put up a playful 
 finger, to indicate close mutual business acumen. 
 People outside could see and hear. *' I don't come 
 by them, because I've got no room for fowls. But 
 Selina's young man, knowing she's so fond of 
 'em " 
 
 *' Let her have 'em. I don't want any of his 
 eggs," Casswade said, with what was thought to 
 be a laugh. " G'night. Birthdays ain't in my 
 line. Sooner see a football match, any day." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 In the semi -obscurity outside — Tamplin Street 
 lying well back from the main thoroughfare of 
 Barking Town — Mr. Casswade might almost have 
 passed for an ordinary, everyday person. It was 
 not raining, but odd splashes of something reached 
 him from time to time ; and he had to hold his 
 breath and avoid stepping upon children who 
 darted hither and thither without warning, like 
 rabbits in a warren — not scorning even to take 
 full advantage of a bow-legged man. Mr. Cass- 
 wade had already given his opinion of Tamplin 
 Street as a residential quarter ; but to-night, as it 
 happened, he was in a ruminative, detached state 
 of mind ; and the audible remarks of women who 
 sat in doorways nursing babies, passed him. 
 
 It was only of late that Casswade had taken to 
 *' maintaining " and putting on flesh so freely , 
 and with it he had been compelled to develop a 
 slow, rolling style of locomotion which, luckily, 
 passed for dignity and substance in Barking Town, 
 where a burly policeman is far more useful than 
 a thin one. Not yet short of breath, he was sup- 
 posed to be in that enviable position which enables 
 a man to move abroad unhampered by any such 
 consideration as the clock, or expense, or a wife. 
 If Mr. Casswade denied it, that was his method 
 of heightening the general envy. 
 
22 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 His stomach aggressively poised, a briar pipe 
 tilted upwards between his teeth, he swayed in 
 due course out into the glow and hubbub of the 
 High Street. Here the electric cars had to forge 
 a way — with occasional short, sharp spasms of 
 speed — at walking-pace through a crowd as thick 
 as bees at swarming -time : clusters of women who 
 stood chatting comfortably between the rails, and 
 solid phalanxes of men with hands deep in pockets 
 who leisurely moved back a few inches as the 
 clang of the car -bell reached frenzy -point. 
 
 But there was no likening Mr. Casswade to a 
 needle in a human haystack. 
 
 *• Evenin', Matt I " *' How do, Mr. Casswade? " 
 " How's things lookin', Matt? " ** Want a man, 
 Mr. Casswade?" came, varied and respectfully 
 intimate, from a succession of throats as he passed 
 along. Some of the women, indeed, seemed to 
 look after him with more wistful interest than his 
 back view warranted. But Mr. Casswade did not 
 pause at all to-night until the end of High Street 
 was reached — and only then, maybe, because he 
 discovered to his surprise that it was not yet nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 Here, on a Saturday night, there was invariably 
 a mass of cheap food for reflection. Three streets 
 meeting formed a sort of irregular triangle. On 
 the far right was a fair in full swing, with gratis 
 music, and pictorial representations outside of 
 noble dames vaulting white chargers, cavaliers 
 flashing rapiers, and spectres gibbering, which 
 made the entrance -fee of twopence seem a mere 
 nominal affair. In the centre of the triangle, the 
 banners, drumbeats and fervent voices of a Salva- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 23 
 
 tion Army assemblage provided another feast of 
 colour and sound to suit different tastes ; and 
 between the two was a buffer of naphtha-lit stalls, 
 at which crowds stood to eat jellied eels or to 
 watch men skinning wild rabbits against time. 
 Away on the left, on a waste piece of ground, 
 another mass of figures was ringed about a man 
 on a platform, the arms and legs of whom at this 
 distance seemed to be moved by galvanic agency. 
 
 Mr. Casswade, his thumbs hooked in his waist- 
 coat, strolled forward to hear better. He had no 
 political opinions, but he liked to see a man make 
 a fool of himself. 
 
 "What's the Empire?" shrilly shouted the 
 speaker. "Any answer? None. Dumb voters, 
 all ! Then, I'll tell you. You're the Empire." 
 He leaned back and became almost still for a 
 moment, while he veered his pointing forefinger 
 impressively round the ring below, as if to leave 
 no man out of so comprehensive and vital a state- 
 ment. He caught sight of Mr. Casswade on the 
 outer fringe, and promptly included that gentle- 
 man. He was a small, fiery -eyed streak of a 
 man, evidently exhausted by his own energy, and 
 with one tuft of yellow hair left, that curled up 
 from his scalp like a limp horn. " Ay I Perhaps 
 you don't realize it — perhaps they don't intend you 
 to realize it ; but you're the glorious Empire. 
 And when they force you to keep up the Empire 
 by relentless payment of rates and taxes, they 
 logically imply that you're to be maintained, if 
 necessary. But do they do it? My heaven, do 
 they? I ask you, my dumb friends I — do they? " 
 
 Not an intelligible sound. He executed a series 
 
24 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 V 
 
 of rapid movements, as if to master some hidden 
 emotion — became still — and proceeded in a 
 straining whisper, which might have more effect. 
 He was evidently nothing if not sincere and 
 steeped in his subject. 
 
 *' Think ! Men of Barking, close your eyes and 
 think I Walking this town to-night are hundreds 
 of men who'll dream of a breakfast that isn't there 
 when they come downstairs at dawn. Next week 
 — ay, perhaps sooner — they'll dream of a bed that 
 isn't beneath 'em, because it's been taken or sold 
 for rent. Look across there, at the glow over 
 Greater London 1 See it? — our rich, free, beauti- 
 ful London — the hub of the universe and the ideal 
 of social and commercial prosperity ! What do 
 you see ? On one hand, you see befurred and 
 bejewelled women motoring past with other 
 women's husbands in endless patrician array — 
 from Hyde Park to the theatre, from the theatre 
 to the restaurant, and back again — living to eat, 
 and to kill time, and to mock at morality. That's 
 West ! — that's the area upon which Almighty's 
 sun ever shines. . . . Now look East. D'you 
 see — see — see them?" He crouched low, his 
 eyes full of horror, his shaking finger suggesting 
 a slowly-darkening stage. " There — there — there 
 it goes, on the other side of the line which man 
 created and God allowed : the silent, famished, 
 tattered army that grows and grows every year, 
 and that to-night in London alone numbers over 
 a hundred thousand men. One hundred thousand 
 living men — many with wives and children 1 " 
 
 A suitable pause. He did not move. Even 
 Mr. Casswade had to look in the direction indi- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 25 
 
 cated, and thought he could see something of the 
 sort — allowing for the haze and distance. 
 
 " Don't stand it 1 " It was a broken roar, that 
 made the crowd start. The thin little man had 
 leaped upright on tiptoe as by clockwork. He 
 was convulsed. ** Don't endure it ! You need 
 not — you shall not ! If it's the richest nation in 
 the world — and it is — we who help to make it so 
 will refuse to starve. We will refuse even to live 
 on from day to day not knowing what the morrow 
 may bring forth — ever in the cursed shadow of 
 unemployment. Don't accept that sop in the pan 
 — charity — any longer. Hurl it back. While 
 Members of Parliament deliberate at ease, your 
 homes are being sold up. It's not that way your 
 one hope of salvation lies. For the sake of your 
 manhood, for your wives and little ones, you must 
 realize the truth that revolutions are not made with 
 rosewater. You must " 
 
 At this interesting point he was checked. Some- 
 thing in the nature of an anti -climax had come — 
 as it does frequently in Barking Town. 
 
 " Look out I " yelled voices from the rear in 
 turn. " Bogie 1 Bogie's got 'em I " 
 
 The crowd heaved and turned about. If the 
 allusion was cryptical to many in it, the man him- 
 self soon dispelled all uncertainty. About once a 
 month — generally on Saturday evening — " Bogie " 
 Lawrence conceived the brilliant idea of darting 
 from the public -house and running amok through 
 Barking. And here he was, with lowered head, 
 charging a way through the crowd. 
 
 He fetched up beneath the platform, shaking his 
 jaws as if in the act of " worrying " rats, and 
 
26 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 grinning horribly up at the thin little man, who 
 stood looking down as though paralysed. If 
 facial appearance and physical bulk went for any- 
 thing, Bogie certainly had an unfair advantage of 
 him, being a giant in stature, with a bullet 
 head, great yellow teeth, and features differing in 
 no way from a negro's saving that they were white 
 when washed. Even the police preferred to 
 edge Bogie Lawrence down quiet side-streets 
 into obscurity, rather than tackle him, at such 
 times . 
 
 '* Over with it. Bogie ! " urged someone with a 
 sense of humour, presumably at a safe distance. 
 ** Bet you, you can't upset the show I " 
 
 Down went Bogie's head, up went the plat- 
 form, and out went the lights. What became of 
 the lecturer ^it was difficult to say. At any rate, 
 the crowd made no attempt to find out, and Bogie 
 was left in undisputed possession of the wreckage. 
 There was obviously no more information about 
 the Empire that night. 
 
 The only thing tolerably certain about Mr. 
 Lawrence's next impulse was that he would not 
 turn and charge the " Army," which never 
 resented it, and even patted him on the back and 
 called him brother, and was rumoured to have 
 intentions of " rescuing " him — when it could 
 hold him. Casswade, albeit a man of some weight 
 himself, thought it prudent not to attract his atten- 
 tion, and moved on. Besides, he had business in 
 hand. 
 
 On Saturday night. Barking Town in the main 
 resembles most a huge chunk of Whitechapel 
 detached bodily and set down amid the marshy 
 
LOW SOCIETY 27 
 
 misty, flat land six or seven miles distant. But 
 in later years, several roads with fine shops and 
 comparative refinement have grown out of it like 
 tentacles ; and along one of these Casswade's way 
 lay. And presently his deliberate roll brought 
 him abreast of the " local " — i.e., the house of 
 call to which he lent most of his patronage. 
 
 He was not thirsty ; but the fact of the public - 
 house being there made refreshment a sort of 
 duty. He avoided the saloon bar, where the 
 glasses were too small and the jests too subtle for 
 his liking ; and passed as usual into the happy 
 medium — the '* private " or " three -ha'penny " 
 enclosure. 
 
 '* It's really you, Mr. Casswade ? " said the 
 bright bar-lady, smiling, as she reached out 
 instinctively for the " Hollands " bottle. ** We 
 wondered what had become of you." 
 
 Casswade waved the bottle away, and ruminated 
 heavily. He was not finnicky, but Hollands on top 
 of half a decanter of whiskey with soda and 
 nothing to eat had its obvious drawbacks ; and to 
 hesitate critically was the privilege of one 
 respected for his holding capacity. ** I'll have a 
 stout," he said. 
 
 ** The gin in it ? " she enquired, her head 
 sweetly on one side. 
 
 *' Nothin' in it," he replied. " I've been to a 
 birthday party." 
 
 " Oh, what a wicked shame ! " she said, with 
 shocked sympathy. " Spoilt your evening." And 
 she looked at him with concern, clearly expecting 
 to see him taken ill . 
 
 With a deep, inward " Ah I " Mr. Casswade 
 
28 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 held up his stout, as if he could see through it — an 
 analysis generally observed as essential to health 
 and good judgment. Then he drank it, and then 
 looked round him, with short nods to the company. 
 
 A sort of greeting, expectant hush had fallen 
 upon the " three -ha'penny " bar. Just how long 
 Casswade remained, and whether he saw fit to 
 enquire after anyone else's thirst, depended 
 strictly as a rule upon the trend of the conversa- 
 tion. Mere domestic details, or the Government's 
 suicidal policy, left him stony and *' untouchable." 
 The choice lay between " business " and purely 
 personal matters ; and either had to be led up to 
 casually, as without design. 
 
 ** Dunno when I saw you looking better, Mr. 
 Casswade — if as well," remarked the pioneer, 
 taking the pipe from his mouth as if struck. 
 
 "Think so?" asked Casswade, slowly. "I 
 ain't married." 
 
 " Course not. That's saying something, I 
 admit. You can sleep, and you aren't nagged at 
 all day for more money ; but still " 
 
 '* No woman 'ud nag me," said Casswade, 
 eyeing him fixedly. "Why? 'Cause I should 
 be like the old horse when the vet. went to blow a 
 powder down its throat — I should blow first. No 
 woman 'ud nag me, my dear feller." 
 
 ** Course not. Still — don't he look the living 
 picture of health? Can't make him out." 
 
 " I can." Number Two finished his drink and 
 pushed the empty glass forward absently. " Mr. 
 Casswade's got his own rules of living, and abides 
 by 'em. You and me don't. And there you are." 
 
 The depth of this induced a pause. Casswade 
 
LOW SOCIETY 29 
 
 swung his leg and glared at the glass bottles on 
 the shelf. He was under admiring inspection, 
 like a prize bullock at a show, so to speak — and 
 also conscious that his one blemish could hardly 
 be glossed over. 
 
 "Think IVe put on any more fat?" he en- 
 quired, carelessly. He looked down at himself, 
 as well as he could without straining. " I can't 
 see I have, myself. Dunno why the kids should 
 want to screech ' Guts ! ' after me. D'you? " 
 
 " My word, no ! " They looked at him and 
 at each other in mild surprise. One pointed his 
 pipe. ** I was saying to Harry Taylor just the 
 very reverse, not a week ago. Harry '11 bear 
 that out." 
 
 ** Not a week ago," confirmed Harry, almost 
 indignantly, surveying the anatomical bulge fron- 
 tally and sideways for proof. " No ; you've 
 dropped a bit somewhere, that you have." 
 
 ** Dunno about that," Casswade said, rather 
 unappreciatively. " You can't go by looks ; you 
 go by the bloomin' feel. I know I have to have 
 a new pair o' trousers about every two months, 
 whether I want 'em or not. It 'ud pay me to 
 have someone to let 'em out. Still, I don't 
 reckon " 
 
 '• That's six pair a year." They found the 
 total and nodded with deep interest. Another one 
 was moved to finish his refreshment. " Still, as 
 you say, that's nothing to go by — not really, mind 
 you. What I mean is, a man with houses to let 
 and sell must keep up his looks or go under. It 
 all depends what you are. Now, if you'd happened 
 to be in the butchering line, like me " 
 
30 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Thank Gawd, I ain't," Casswade said. 
 " Gimme bricks and mortar." 
 
 He gulped off his second stout. The prospects 
 had seldom seemed more favourable. All stood 
 in a state of mental absorption, while the abrupt 
 " What's yours? — and yours? " gathered in Cass- 
 wade *s throat. 
 
 But, as it happened, there was a Jonah aboard 
 — a Jonah whom they could have knifed where he 
 sat. It was not even as if he had been a regular 
 habitue. He was merely a casual in this bar, and 
 seldom had an opinion on anything. 
 
 ** I should say, if you'll allow me," he struck in, 
 in the silence, ** you've got to be careful. And 
 I'll tell you why." 
 
 ** Oh I " Casswade muttered, wheeling round on 
 his stool. ** What d'you know about it ? " 
 
 ** I know a little bit." The Jonah was not shy, 
 and the general cold stare did not deter him from 
 outlining an interesting picture that had just 
 occurred to him. ** S'pose, now, you were to go 
 to the doctor's to-morrow, and spread yourself 
 out on a slab, and paid him money down for his 
 advice. What d'you think he'd say? He'd say : 
 * My good man, it's a well-known fact that a 
 person can't put on that amount o' flesh outside 
 without putting on a corresponding amount inside .' 
 That's what he'd say." 
 
 ** Oh I " Casswade repeated, uncomfortable, but 
 determined to get to the end of this theory. 
 "And what's that mean?" 
 
 "Mean?" Jonah shrugged in very decency. 
 " Have you ever opened a goose that's been fat- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 31 
 
 tened up for Christmas ? Course, you have . 
 Well . . r 
 
 ** Oh I And you reckon I'm like that? " Cass- 
 wade demanded, with growing thickness of the 
 throat, as he grasped the possibilities implied. 
 " You reckon, then, that my heart and lungs and 
 what-not haven't got bare room to move, or to 
 do their bit, so to speak? " 
 
 " They haven't got any too much," the other 
 hedged, with caution. "I'm not turning you 
 inside out, sir — don't think that." 
 
 ** But you are. I do think it," Casswade said, 
 his face taking a purple tint. " Accordin' to you, 
 I haven't got another minnit to live. I'm abso- 
 lutely bunged up. I'm a walkin' coffin. That's 
 what you said, and what you mean. I'm a mass 
 o' fat inside an' out. I'm on my last legs as I sit 
 here. I'm " 
 
 '* Not at all," Jonah put in, pacifically. A 
 chorus of groans had been directed at him. " I 
 only took on myself to answer your question to 
 this gentleman here. But you didn't wait to hear 
 what I was really going to say " 
 
 ** No," said Casswade, " I don't want to hear 
 it. I don't like the look of you. You know a 
 sight too much. You're a patent medicine feller, 
 I shouldn't wonder. If you went to a doctor to- 
 morrer, he'd give you fourpence to get a square 
 meal with ; that's what he'd do. Why, blimy, I 
 doubt whether, if he cut you up, he'd find any 
 innards at all. I doubt " 
 
 Warming to it, he was proceeding to dissect 
 Jonah's entire anatomy without the need for sur- 
 gical apparatus, when someone kicked his foot to 
 
32 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 hint that the bar-lady had been attracted and was 
 a wondering listener. 
 
 ** I knew something had upset Mr. Casswade," 
 she remarked, as he came to a reluctant halt. 
 " It's that birthday party." 
 
 ** Oh, no, it ain't," Casswade retorted. He 
 was really roused. ** How would you like to be 
 told outright you're too fat to go another day, 
 and ready to bust without warnin', and — what was 
 it he said? " 
 
 "You? I don't call you fat," said the lady, 
 with prompt tact. " I wouldn't give that much 
 for a lath -and -plaster man myself. Who would? 
 Who says it ? " 
 
 " What I meant to say, was," Jonah began 
 again, with all eyes upon him, ** that any genuine 
 doctor would tell our friend here " 
 
 "Your friend?" Casswade got up. "Who's 
 your friend? Me? " 
 
 " would tell him to run round the houses 
 
 three times a day, take a Turkish bath once a 
 week, eat less, think more, and stop blowing him- 
 self out with beer." And with that parting shot 
 Jonah swung the door calmly and was gone. 
 
 No one spoke ; no one could. For perhaps a 
 minute Mr. Casswade stood breathing very 
 audibly and gazing into space. Then, without 
 even a nod to the company, he buttoned his coat 
 over the offending flesh and passed out. 
 
 Going heavily down the pavement, he broke 
 into a chuckle. He was sufficiently intuitive to 
 picture, of a sudden, the blank disgust in the 
 " three -ha 'penny " bar. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 He had soon passed the last of the shops in 
 this direction. A thin mist from deserted field- 
 spaces was prowling about the roadway now. 
 When at length he drew up, he was gazing down 
 a long line of newly-built houses, of the type 
 known as " convenient villas " — a few occupied, 
 the majority awaiting purchasers, and some mere 
 brick -and -mortar shells in various stages of com- 
 pletion. No one could have doubted, as he moved 
 with many pauses down the unpaved path opposite, 
 that Mr. Casswade was either the builder or the 
 proprietor. In point of fact, he was both — on 
 paper. 
 
 And yet, apparently, he was not out for self- 
 congratulation. There was a fierce, questioning 
 fixity in his face as he looked up at some of the 
 blank windows, or peered through some of the 
 windowless ** drawing-rooms " into lone, nebulous 
 regions of marshland beyond. And thereby hung 
 a tale, the final chapters of which not even the 
 local prophets could anticipate. There were many 
 who maintained that the strenuous building and 
 buying craze in this area had reached the inevit- 
 able awkward pause, and that the other scale had 
 slowly started to move downwards. If it did — I 
 Beyond doubt, this latest enterprise upon Mr. 
 Casswade's part was not attracting whole crowds 
 
 L.s. D 
 
34 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 from the more congested districts, spite of the 
 absurdly easy terms of purchase and the advan- 
 tages of town and country combined. 
 
 ** What people want for their bloomin' money 
 nowadays 'ud cripple a Billingsgate Jew," Mr. 
 Casswade repeated to himself. It was the most 
 effective simile he could think of. 
 
 He had reached the end of the row, and was 
 now facing the silent, wholly -indescribable region 
 of field-land that parted him from Beckton and the 
 river. At this hour, in this light, his advertized 
 description of the property as having quite a rural, 
 sequestered aspect was more than honest. There 
 was not a soul in sight, hardly a definite sound to 
 be heard, and over all an uncanny, creeping thin 
 vapour that had no connection with City fogs, but 
 which was breathed out by the earth itself. A lot 
 of people had complained about this nightly mist 
 from nowhere, but Mr. Casswade could see nothing 
 deleterious or unpicturesque in it. In fact, he 
 said, the only reason he didn't live in one of the 
 new houses himself was that his furniture hap- 
 pened to be too awkward and old-fashioned to 
 make any decent show in them. 
 
 For a while Mr. Casswade moved ruminatively 
 up and down among the scattered heaps of build- 
 ing material beyond, now lost to sight, now re- 
 appearing — like a burly gamekeeper going over 
 his ground for tracks of poachers. In the rear 
 there was a parallel row of sites marked out, 
 some of them with concrete foundations already 
 laid and dry ; but as to the advisability of pro- 
 ceeding with these, Mr. Casswade was generally 
 held to be a little doubtful. It was getting some- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 35 
 
 what late in the year, and people were too lazy or 
 too improvident to contemplate " moving," on 
 account of the weather ahead. 
 
 Retracing his steps, he came to a portable 
 wooden hut at the upper end of the road, just big 
 enough to hold two men, an assortment of wall- 
 papers, a rough desk, and a hanging lamp. On 
 the outside was painted : ** The New Eden Estate. 
 Builder and Sole Agent — M. Casswade. Why 
 pay rent for nothing?" Someone had pencilled 
 thickly more information — " Same old Serpent " 
 — in brackets above the word ** Estate " ; but 
 Casswade was neither thin-skinned nor versed 
 accurately in Biblical symbols. 
 
 The hut was empty and fastened ; so he crossed 
 and knocked at the house opposite — Number One, 
 Mandalay Gardens. Presently the door opened. 
 
 " Oh, here you are, then," Casswade said, as 
 though the last thing he expected to emerge was 
 a man. '* Nothin' doin', I s'pose ? No one been ? " 
 
 '* No one. At least, only one old party, since 
 three o'clock ; and she wouldn't put down a penny 
 without the copper was shifted and two o' the back 
 rooms knocked into one," the man informed him. 
 This was Casswade 's foreman and deputy agent 
 on the " estate," and the prevailing opinion 
 was that he earned his salary. An angular, 
 knotty, somewhat self-absorbed and uncommuni- 
 cative man, he punctuated his words with little 
 coughs. ** I told her it couldn't be done for the 
 money." 
 
 "You did? Go on 1 — I wouldn't ha* done 
 that," Casswade said, heavily humorous. "She 
 come in a motor, didn't she ? A wonder 1 I 
 
 D 2 
 
36 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 never see such a lot o* bloomin' starvation rats 
 as there are about nowadays. No one been, eh? 
 Well — " he spread his legs and took out a cigar — 
 ** What I want to know is — What's goin' to be 
 done ? What's goin' to happen to you and me ? " 
 
 This was so opaque a problem, with Casswade's 
 fixed glare behind it, that the foreman could only 
 nibble his moustache and gaze into space. 
 
 "How am I goin' on?" Cass wade repeated, 
 with swelling resentment. ** Here I am — can't 
 lay my hand on a bloomin' fiver, not in ready 
 money. Here's a matter o' four thousand in 
 bricks and mortar run up, to say nothin' of as 
 much in ground rents goin' to seed. And there 
 ain't a genuine buyer about — only a lot of old 
 geese that come and want a bloomin' Windsor 
 Castle for twenty pound down. It's serious. Josh, 
 I tell you straight. If you can't do nothin', how 
 d'you expect me to go on weighin' out wages like 
 a slot machine ? It can't be done on nothin' a 
 week. I'm down to bottled beer and * tuppennies,' 
 as it is." 
 
 ** Well, I've shoved in that flooring at Number 
 Thirteen," said the foreman, as though the fact 
 brightened matters. ** Oh, and I heard to-night 
 that old Johnson's gone bankrupt and taken to 
 drink, with all them houses on his hands." 
 
 " Serve him right," said Mr. Casswade, deci- 
 sively. ** That man didn't know how to put up 
 a rabbit-hutch, let alone a modern villa. Drunk 
 half his time, too — so I've heard. Oh,— er — 
 what was that message you sent down about the 
 party at Number Five — that's what I wanted to 
 know. Ain't she got enough for her money? " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 37 
 
 ** Well, now, I'll tell you just how it was." 
 The foreman pulled himself together to meet the 
 occasion. " She come down here and begun on 
 something about a crack in the front upstair 
 ceiling. I sent the missis out to say it was nothing 
 — it was only the place settling itself down solid. 
 ' Well,* she says, * we don't like the look of it, 
 and my husband says I'm to have it cut out and 
 filled in. And that's not all,' she says. * I've 
 got several bones to pick with Mr. Casswade, you 
 tell him. There's no varnish left on the staircase 
 and doors, and my husband wants to know what 
 it means. And every night there's a creaking 
 sound somewhere, and my husband's fit for 
 nothing in the morning, and you'll have to find it 
 out and stop it. And there must be a gas escape ; 
 we never paid such bills in our other house. And 
 then again, what about that sink? I'm positive 
 there's something in the pipe — and my husband's 
 got no time to go fiddling with pipes. And how 
 much longer are we to wait before that second coat 
 of paint he promised ' " 
 
 " My Gawd I " Mr. Casswade breathed, taking 
 ofi" his hat to wipe his forehead. *' My Gawd ! 
 ain't it enough to make a man do somethin' ? 
 What else?" 
 
 *' Well, she was here half an hour, and she 
 never stopped talking. I couldn't remember half 
 of it." 
 
 " Don't try," said Mr. Casswade. ** May I 
 perish before I touch another crack in the place. 
 What d'you think of it, Josh? — two hundred and 
 fifteen pounds for a house like this, with the 
 money found for 'em at five -and -half per cent. — 
 
38 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and then they ain't satisfied. Who's her hus- 
 band ? — what sort of a tyke is he ? I half 
 forget." 
 
 ** Oh, not much — black bag and one glove man 
 — he lets her do all the talking and walks out to 
 the back when there's anything on." 
 
 " That'll do," said Casswade. ** Ask him to 
 call at my office for a personal interview with me 
 and the Loan Society's lawyers. That'll fill up 
 the crack. There's one thing I'm countin' on 
 to-night — and only one. That young Hunger - 
 ford — him with the dark curly hair and silk hat 
 — '11 buy Number Nine. He's got to. He's been 
 nibblin' these three weeks ; and he'll bite." 
 
 "Think so? I haven't seen anything of him 
 again." 
 
 ** Course not. He comes Sundays. He'll be 
 down to-morrow for another look. That's 
 what I was goin' to say to you : don't rush 
 out. He's the quiet sort : you can't bounce 
 him. He'll stand here for hours askin' hisself 
 whether he can run to it. He'll bite ! He dunno I 
 know, but he brought the girl down one night in 
 the week. You didn't see 'em. They stood just 
 down there, in the dark. They ain't quite married 
 yet, by the look of it. He was whisperin', and look- 
 ing down at her. I bobbed down, as they went by 
 the box — I don't want to scare 'em. Decent - 
 lookin' little woman — one o' them with the dancey 
 eyes — you know — don't say much, but devils for 
 thinkin'. He'll have Number Nine. Jest shove up 
 * Cosy Corner ' over the fanlight. Well, I'm off. 
 I've got a likely party to see — if I can catch him. 
 Oh I " He turned his big body at the gate. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 39 
 
 " There's all that fresh timber and stuff, mind, 
 lyin' down there. Keep your ear cocked." He 
 lowered his voice. " I mean, I couldn't see him 
 anywhere about." 
 
 ** Oh, he^s there, somewhere," replied the fore- 
 man, in the same bated way. ** He don't move 
 away much before midnight now — if then." 
 
 " That's all right, then. Let him be. I reckon 
 he's worth ten bob a week to me — to you, I mean. 
 G'night. A fine day to-morrow ought to fetch 'em 
 out. If it don't ! " 
 
 An electric car — a beautiful sight, as it glided 
 suddenly out of the darkness like a stately, fairy, 
 jewelled ship at sea — was just rounding the bend, 
 bound for Barking Town High Street. It was very 
 seldom that Mr. Casswade made use of a car, as 
 they did not pause long enough for him to mount 
 the stair to the top in comfort, and he disliked the 
 stony, inquisitive stare which all inside passengers 
 assume ; but he decided to have a halfpennyworth. 
 He got in. There was one vacant space between 
 two ladies, which they hastily widened at sight of 
 him. As it was, the car timed its jerk to a nicety, 
 and Mr. Casswade's two-and-half hundredweight 
 of flesh landed heavily, nipping a portion of the 
 left-hand lady. 
 
 " Oh 1 " she said, biting her lip with some 
 reason. " Thank you very much. . . ." 
 
 *' Don't mention it," Casswade said, glaring 
 back at her. He quite failed to grasp what service 
 he had rendered. *' Nice evenin', if it wasn't for 
 the mist about." 
 
 " And — and the tact of some animals," she 
 added, with a trembling gasp, looking away. 
 
40 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** That's right enough," he said, uncertainly. 
 As she made no attempt to explain her reference, 
 and got more and more pallid and tight-lipped, 
 he set her down as some party given to excessive 
 tea -drinking. 
 
 It was close upon eleven o'clock when he 
 released her and stepped off the car. The narrow- 
 ness of the time -margin induced him to have one 
 more drink. Then, with the public -houses closed, 
 most of the shops following suit, and that great 
 wavering glow over London's heart becoming 
 more and more distinct, it might be said that for 
 Barking Town one more Saturday had practically 
 come to a close, Mr. Casswade, however, was 
 not thinking of bed yet. He wiped his lips and 
 set out a second time in the direction of Tamplin 
 Street. 
 
 He found it quiet and featureless now — save at 
 Mr. Shadd's premises, near which he paused. 
 The shutters were up, but muffled gusts of sound 
 from beyond them betokened that Selina's birth- 
 day was to run its fair course by the clock. In 
 fact, Casswade reflected, there was no knowing 
 when an affair of that kind would end — till he 
 called to mind that both Mr. and Mrs. Shadd 
 leaned to rigid economy as regarded gas con- 
 sumption. This decided him. One comfortable 
 fact was, that the upper end of Tamplin Street 
 had no outlet worth mentioning. 
 
 He paced up and down at the lower end. From 
 time to time Shadd's door let out a weak sword 
 of light, and chattering young couples carrying 
 music came noisily down the street ; but Selina's 
 young man was evidently a stayer. It was just 
 
LOW SOCIETY 41 
 
 upon midnight when, as Mr. Casswade gasped at 
 the thought that the young man might have been 
 accommodated with a shake -down in the shop, and 
 might now be getting into it, the weak sword of 
 light appeared again. Someone stepped out and 
 came along the pavement, his feet drawing a dull 
 ring in the comparative silence. It was George. 
 
 ** Eh, what — hullo I " said Mr. Casswade. They 
 had butted into each other coincidently at the 
 
 corner. ** Good gracious ! it's you, is it, Mr. 
 
 I didn't quite catch the name? " 
 
 ** Baversham's my name," replied the young 
 man, rather straightly. Mr. Casswade, besides 
 smelling powerfully of mixed liquors, was no trifle 
 in a collision of the sort. '* I didn't think you 
 wanted to catch it." 
 
 ** Ah, Baversham— that's it." He fell into step 
 as carelessly as he could. "Just off home, eh? 
 Why, wasn't they tellin' me you come all the way 
 from Beckton? That's a middlin' step this time o' 
 night, ain't it ? " 
 
 " It would be to you, I expect." Selina's 
 young man halted abruptly. " Which way are 
 you goin' ? " he enquired. 
 
 ** Well— er — I dunno— this way 1 " 
 
 "Well, I'm goin' this. Good-night." 
 
 '* Right you are," Casswade said, cheerfully. 
 ** I'll come a bit o' the way with you— only I 
 ain't the bloomin' fire-engine I was once, of 
 course. Beckton, eh? Like the night air 
 there ? " 
 
 ** I can't say." Baversham had slackened just 
 a little — very little ; and the roll of his com- 
 panion's body at the pace was anything but pic- 
 
42 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 turesque. ** rm only goin' halfway, where my 
 lodgin' happens to be. You're late, ain't 
 you?" 
 
 '* Bit of a night-bird," Casswade admitted. 
 " Not bein' married, y'see, and all that sort o* 
 thing. Ah, by the bye, won't be so long before 
 you're wantin' somethin' decent and substantial 
 yourself to take the girl to, eh ? " 
 
 " It'll be decent, anyhow," replied the young 
 man, with emphasis. " I don't warrant anythin' 
 else without seein' it and livin' in it." 
 
 *' It'll be, I trust," Casswade said, in his deepest 
 pulpit tone, " somethin' to fit the holy state o' 
 matrimony, and worthy o' my friend Shadd's one 
 and only daughter. And, as you've touched on 
 the point, if you haven't fixed as yet on the right 
 place, in the handiest part, with the lovely country 
 at the back and the City in front, well, you might 
 have done worse than run up against me jest now. 
 Mind, so to speak, I mean. Ten pound down — 
 another twenty-five when you sign the deeds — and 
 you're a made man for life." 
 
 '* How*s that?" asked Selina's young man, 
 pricked in spite of himself. 
 
 '* How's that? Ask yourself, Mr. I didn't 
 
 quite catch the name? — ah, that's it, Baversham. 
 Now, put it to yourself. Here's you, a young 
 feller out o' the ordinary altogether, with a 
 woman that thinks the world o' you, and your 
 future right in front o' you. Isn't that so ? " 
 
 " Yes, I see that much," he agreed, dubiously. 
 ** But don't let me take you out o' your way." 
 
 " Well, there you are, plain as a pikestafT — 
 don't walk quite so fast, mister I In them words 
 
LOW SOCIETY 43 
 
 IVe given you the tip — the Derby o' Life, so to 
 speak. You've got it." 
 
 Selina's young man sniffed. ** Blowed if I 
 can see it," he said. " Got what ? Are you givin* 
 me advice about marriage, or what ? " 
 
 "I'm tellin' you," Casswade said, his solemnity 
 deepening, ** how I started to make my money. 
 Bricks and mortar, sir I Look at me. I began 
 with nothin' — naked to the wide world, you might 
 say. I got one house ; in ten years I'd got fifty." 
 
 "I'd like to know how you did it," Baversham 
 said, even now unconvinced. '* You couldn't have 
 gone to the same school as I did." 
 
 " Me ? I never went to no school. My old man 
 didn't believe in 'em, and hopped about from 
 neighbourhood to neighbourhood." 
 
 "Did he have to?" 
 
 " And that, sir, is how I picked up my little 
 bit." 
 
 ** My word I " George stopped suddenly dead. 
 " Why, then, you're the rollin' stone that did 
 gather some moss 1 " 
 
 It did not appeal to Mr. Casswade. Besides, 
 they were getting out farther and farther towards 
 the dark field-land — Beckton field-land, above 
 all. He had no fancy for a glimpse of the gas- 
 works and dockyards at this hour. 
 
 " No larks," he said, shortly. " Where are 
 we ? The point is, you're a man with fifty pounds 
 put by — or, it may be, a hundred. And you want 
 to turn it into a thousand. Is that so, or not ? " 
 
 " It is so," George admitted, serious enough 
 now. 
 
 '* Right ! Then that brings us bang to the 
 
44 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 bricks and mortar. You can't beat it ; it turns to 
 gold in your hands. Look at me. I maintain 
 that any man " 
 
 *' Wait a bit," said George. " P'raps I know 
 what you're drivin' at. You're advisin' me to buy 
 houses, and build houses, and sell houses, same as 
 you've done. And you've one or two of your 
 own that would suit me for a start. But " 
 
 "And why?" Casswade put in, profoundly. 
 *' You must begin, or you can't go on. And if 
 you do it, it's done. That's the key to bis'ness, 
 ain't it? If you've got the money, plank it down. 
 In a few years, you'll come and you'll say : 
 ' Thankee, Casswade ! Here's Selina and me in 
 a motor-car at the door.' " 
 
 "Think so? Then what's all this I've heard 
 about it's bein' a risky game, and done to death 
 in these parts ? And why should I have to start 
 in one o' your houses ? " 
 
 "To be on the spot. Now d'you see? It's 
 jest as it happens, by luck, so to speak. In them 
 streets o' villas, on the New Eden Estate, they're 
 bein' snapped up like wildfire. Leave it too long, 
 and you won't get a look in. But there'll be some 
 later on, only known to the man who's on the 
 spot. That's between you and me, quite private. 
 And then. . . ." 
 
 He contained himself till Baversham looked 
 round, and then gave a pregnant wink, accom- 
 panied — accidentally — by a little lurch of his 
 body. Never until to-night had Selina's young 
 man deemed himself so lacking in acumen. 
 
 " D'you mean you want a partner in the bis'- 
 ness ? " he hazarded, at a reckless plunge. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 45 
 
 ** Not me. I'm not havin' any — bed-partners 
 or otherwise — young feller. I'm only thinkin' o' 
 you and Selina. I'm jest tellin' you how it's to 
 be done. You stroll up to my office, any day 
 you like, and put down your ten pound deposit, 
 and you'll soon know what's what. Mind, I don't 
 give it away to everyone on two legs. Why — " 
 — he dropped into sudden husky mysteriousness — 
 ** you don't reckon I made my bit out o' jest the 
 difference between buildin' and sellin' 'em, do 
 you ? Why, that 'ud be workin' for a bloomin' 
 livin'." 
 
 ** Go on," said George softly, as if he began to 
 feel fascinated at last. 
 
 ** Well, there you are ! If you're thinkin' to 
 make a start, you run up to the estate office to- 
 morrow and ask for Mr. Casswade. And you 
 needn't bring your young woman first go-off, 
 'cause women only think about wall-papers and 
 curtain-rods, and ain't in the bis'ness at all to 
 get cent, per cent, for their money. See? " 
 
 ** Cent, per cent., eh ? " the other repeated, more 
 thoughtfully still. They went a little farther, 
 and then he said : ** P'raps I will. What's the 
 special tip you spoke of? " 
 
 Casswade looked all round, and whispered — so 
 closely that Baversham could almost get the taste 
 of the mixed liquors for nothing. 
 
 ** You've got your house. You're on the spot, 
 with your eyes and ears open. Out of every six 
 of them houses, there'll be one or two parties that 
 can't keep up their payments — whether it's to 
 me, or to the Loan Society. Young couples — 
 the kid comes — another kid comes — or the man 
 
46 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 goes and throws hisself out o' work. Some of 
 'em ain't got a ha'penny piece to fly with, bar 
 the deposit they've borrowed — very likely off me. 
 They're done. No one '11 take the house off their 
 hands or see 'em through — 'taint likely. It's 
 their luck — they will get married and tied up in a 
 bloomin' knot ! Then — in you step, casual like. 
 You make 'em a cash offer. If they've paid 
 ninety off the mortgage, you'll give 'em thirty 
 down and chance your luck. They grab at it — 
 that sort always do. Out they go. The house is 
 your'n, to let or sell again at your own figure. 
 It's done." 
 
 Casswade mopped his forehead after the sus- 
 tained effort. He was almost hoarse. 
 
 ** I see," Baversham whispered back. They had 
 come to a mutual pause in the middle of the dark 
 roadway. Only here and there in the gloom all 
 around showed the twinkle of a house lamp. ** So 
 that's how you made your money." 
 
 ** Not all of it," he corrected, carelessly. ** But 
 a good part of it. I reckon, at one time, I got a 
 dozen houses at a hundred apiece. The cash 
 down does it. Course, between ourselves, I done 
 it through agents. Wouldn't do for me myself to 
 sell 'em a house and then buy it back at half-price 
 — although I've done that twice over before now." 
 
 ** I see. Yes, that's a very good game," Selina's 
 young man agreed, gazing into space towards 
 Beckton. ** I can understand it takes a smartish 
 man to get 'em to buy some o' these houses in the 
 first place." 
 
 " Smart 1 My word, you've got to be a spider 
 waitin' for flies. But they rush in — some of 'em. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 47 
 
 Others go slow, and reckon they're very clever. 
 Why," he confided, with another look round, 
 ** There's a young feller on my books now. He'll 
 bite ! The advertisement done it. He's brought 
 the girl already to look — you can always tell by 
 that. They ain't quite married yet. I've sized 
 'em up. Very likely he's took it into his head all 
 of a sudden he wants her — or p'raps he's been 
 years savin' up enough to do the bis'ness. Talk 
 about fools I There won't be a ha'penny margin, 
 he'll find, when he's paid all the lawyer's fees, 
 and deposit, and what not. But they sign like a 
 bloomin' cricket chirpin'. It's the big idea what 
 fetches 'em — your own villa, with the hope o' 
 lettin' part to lodgers. Lodgers out here, mind 
 you ! " He nudged and chuckled huskily. He 
 had seldom felt so encouraged to confidence. 
 " Course, I can't help it if they happen to come a 
 cropper, can I? He'll be there, you'll see." 
 
 "What's his name?" Baversham asked, 
 absently. 
 
 "Name? Why— er— Hungerford. Yes, that's 
 it." 
 
 ** Where might he live? " 
 
 "Live? Oh — er — somewhere or other." 
 
 " I'll find out. I'll drop him a line." Selina's 
 young man came to himself, took a step or two, 
 and half turned. " Good-night ! Know your 
 way? — bend to the left and follow the tram-line 
 for about two miles. I'll drop him a line. I'll 
 get Selina to write it. I'll let him know, and all 
 Barking know, he's in the hands of a dirty fraud — 
 a jerry -builder — a man who'd sell his own mother 
 for ninepence and a drink 1 " 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Mr. Casswade passed an unsatisfactory night, 
 with savage spells of wakefulness . He had dreams 
 in plenty, but all of an unpleasantly dramatic 
 character — particularly one in which he saw him- 
 self stripped and made to enter an arena against 
 Bogie Lawrence, with Hungerford and Selina's 
 young man as referees. It was fully an hour 
 earlier than usual when he leaned out from the 
 bed-curtains to thump his bell. He had no modern 
 fastidious notions of a bath, or even a wash, 
 prior to breakfast. 
 
 Five minutes of brooding, perhaps, and then a 
 discreet tap. Miss Pugh, the ** maid " — a lady 
 of unascertained age — entered, bearing a tray upon 
 which were biscuits and a cup of tea with ** a little 
 something in it." She slipped it with elaborate 
 circumspection in between the curtains, and then 
 stood back, smoothing her hands. Apart from a 
 woman who attended daily to perform the hardest 
 work. Miss Pugh and himself comprised the entire 
 Casswade household. And, as if this were not 
 small enough, there was an uncharitable convic- 
 tion abroad that Miss Pugh had no belief in two 
 persons remaining twain when they could become 
 **one." Undoubtedly she had a personal griev- 
 ance, many of the tradesmen and all the small boys 
 persisting obstinately in calling her " Miss Pug." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 49 
 
 " I wasn't quite sure whether you rang," she 
 observed, touching the curtain fringe. ** But I 
 thought I couldn't be mistaken." 
 
 " Never mind about that," came his voice from 
 beyond them. " It's hot and strong for once — 
 that's somethin'. Any letters?" 
 
 " Oh, hardly. The postman's always a little 
 later on Sundays, isn't he, now? " 
 
 ** How do I know ? No right to be," he growled. 
 And Miss Pugh smiled to herself indulgently. 
 Morning irritability is only provoking in un- 
 interesting persons — in one's own husband, for 
 instance. " What sort o' day is it? Snowin', or 
 snivellin', or what ? " 
 
 *' Lovely 1 Lovely 1 " She skipped to the window 
 and drew up one blind, for him to see through the 
 chinks. Through the thin mist beyond there was 
 a most promising amber outlook. ** I shouldn't 
 be surprised if you have your hands full of business 
 to-day. You'll certainly wear your silk hat and 
 frock coat." 
 
 " Very well, get 'em out and brush 'em," he 
 said, somewhat mollified. *' That'll do." 
 
 She had seemed disposed, with the protective 
 feminine instinct, to linger and ask after his 
 health ; but Mr. Casswade would have none of 
 that. He made one definite movement, and the 
 door closed hurriedly behind her. In fact, if the 
 heart theory of the neighbours had a basis, Miss 
 Pugh was keeping her hopes alive on very meagre 
 nourishment . 
 
 About ten o'clock, as she stood smiling and 
 smoothing her hands in the doorway, Mr. Cass- 
 wade sallied forth, a little hectic after her 
 
 L.S. E 
 
50 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 strenuous efforts to make his buttonhole flower 
 ** set " rightly. The sun was shining with a fervour 
 that made even Barking Town look white and 
 bright, and Mr. Casswade himself, with his cigar, 
 polished hat and tight coat, had outwardly all the 
 appearance of a company promoter going to con- 
 gratulate a board of directors upon a successful 
 flotation at the public's expense. Inwardly, he 
 had three separate sources of uneasiness. 
 
 There was the fact of the serious scarcity of 
 ready money to carry on his projects, and on top 
 of that the sudden sinister, astounding menace in 
 the person of Selina Shadd's young man. Last, 
 but by no means least, he could not shake off that 
 idea of a solid layer of fat slowly, insidiously, 
 enclosing and strangling his internal organism. 
 It had sounded too disinterested and realistic to 
 be scouted ; the process might be advancing by 
 another stage even as he walked the pavement. 
 As he went, he was considering some heroic idea 
 of a revised diet for which no one need guess the 
 motive. The difficulty was, to know where to 
 begin. Lately he had been balancing a distaste 
 for solids by an access of liquid sustenance ; and 
 it appeared on the surface that he might as well 
 die slowly of strangulating fat as acquire a dis- 
 taste for liquids, too. 
 
 The New Eden Estate, of course, lay to the left ; 
 but for some reason of his own he turned first of all 
 in the other direction. Early as it was, the Bark- 
 ing Town Sunday morning parade was in full 
 swing. All down the lengthy High Street, and 
 along each main branch thoroughfare, groups 
 of men, mostly in tweed caps worn low, and with 
 
LOW SOCIETY 51 
 
 hands deep in trousers' pockets cut frontally, 
 moved at a saunter in the centre of the roadway, 
 apparently bent upon eventually compelling the 
 electric cars to take to the pavement. There was 
 shouting and laughter and ogling of women — there 
 being nothing else to occupy the mind until the 
 blessed hour of half -past twelve. And through 
 this slow -shifting kaleidoscope came Mr. Matt 
 Casswade, his glossy, imposing, half -suffocated 
 appearance attracting full attention. It was only 
 the bolder spirits who cared to hail him with a 
 ** Mornin', Matt 1 " on Sunday. For the rest of 
 the week, Mr. Casswade was as contemptuous of 
 conventionality as anyone in Barking. 
 
 The church bells had begun to clash out as he 
 passed the end of Tamplin Street. He was in 
 luck. Coming sharply down that street was the 
 very person of whom he had hoped to catch sight 
 without the presence of prying females — Mr. 
 Shadd, carrying a small book, and looking like a 
 needy undertaker in his own shrunken frock-coat. 
 Mr. Shadd had been married in this same gar- 
 ment, but nothing could persuade him that a 
 frock-coat could ever grow threadbare ; it seemed 
 monstrous to him. 
 
 "How do?" asked Mr. Casswade, rolling his 
 cigar carelessly. " Where might you be off 
 to?" 
 
 " Well, I never ! " Flustered and pleased, Mr. 
 Shadd slipped the small book hastily into his tail- 
 pocket, and wrung the other's hand till it was 
 bluntly withdrawn. He had been ruefully con- 
 vinced that asking Mr. Casswade to the birthday 
 party had been a tactical error beyond repair. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Fancy meeting you like this I Well — er — I don't 
 know that I was going anywhere in particular." 
 
 " Glad o* that," said Casswade, fixing him 
 with a cold, fishy eye. " Looked very much to me 
 as if you was goin' to church, and tryin' not to 
 run." 
 
 ** The idea," Mr. Shadd laughed. '* Let's stroll 
 on. How are you? " 
 
 "How am I?" He pulled out a cigar-case. 
 '* Have a smoke, and don't be silly." 
 
 Mr. Shadd coughed, not caring to refuse on the 
 ground that it would choke him. They walked on. 
 
 " I've often wondered, though," Shadd re- 
 marked, " you don't rent a pew somewhere. It 
 'ud mean a flow of business." 
 
 "I'd sooner rent a pub," was the heavy reply. 
 " If there's one thing I'm not, and only one, it's 
 a bloomin' singin' hypocrite," he added, vaguely. 
 ** Come up and have a look at my houses, and see 
 what you think of 'em — unless you're a deacon - 
 bloke somewhere." He paused suspiciously. 
 
 •• The idea," Mr. Shadd repeated. " Do I look 
 like it?" 
 
 '* Well, if I was asked, I should say you do," 
 Mr. Casswade said, looking him up and down. 
 " What I call a sort o' black-beetle look. Come 
 on, then ! Yes, I half thought I might run across 
 you, and yet I didn't want to particular, if you 
 understand me." 
 
 It was not too luminous, but Mr. Shadd pricked 
 up his ears. " Oh I " he said, with interest. 
 
 " 'Course if you don't care, as her father, it 
 don't matter a ha'penny rap to me, does it ? " 
 
 ** Certainly not," Mr. Shadd agreed, stoutly. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 53 
 
 ** Decidedly — er — I mean, of course I am her 
 father." 
 
 ** That*s what I thought." Casswade spat out 
 and squared his shoulders, as one impelled by 
 duty and friendship to a disagreeable task. 
 ** Then, I'd see him buried before I'd let him touch 
 any daughter o' mine. That's all." 
 
 ** Do you mean it? " breathed the startled Mr. 
 Shadd. ** Really?" 
 
 ** Mean it? I'd go farther. I wouldn't let him 
 touch her with a pair o' tongs, or use the penny 
 post to her. And that's sayin' somethin', after 
 the cuddlin' and whatnot I see between 'em last 
 night. I couldn't sleep, merely thinkin' of it ; 
 and it takes a lot to keep me awake on Saturday 
 night, as you know." 
 
 Mr. Shadd did not know, but he could believe 
 it. He drew a long, shaky breath. 
 
 " Well, I'm in a nice position," he said. 
 ** You've put me in a pickle, and no mistake. 
 What can I do?" 
 
 ** I shouldn't do anythin*, my dear feller. I 
 should simply order him out o' the place without 
 listenin' to a pack o' lies, and keep him out. And 
 there you are." 
 
 "But — what's he done? He might ask that. 
 What have you heard ? I don't know much of him 
 yet, but I understood from Selina he was a most 
 steady young man." 
 
 ** Oh, is he? Look here I " Mr. Casswade 
 paused, grasped his shoulder, and whispered 
 tensely. ** And it ain't the first time, nor the 
 hundredth, or I wouldn't speak of it," he finished, 
 aloud. ** And you needn't take my word for it, 
 
54 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 or mention me at all ; because it's known from here 
 to Beckton and back again. And as for that tale 
 about him havin' money — well, heaven help your 
 daughter. I should want to know.'' 
 
 '* I do," asserted Mr. Shadd, rather faintly. 
 ** I've seen his bank-book." 
 
 ** Oh I " For an instant Mr. Casswade was 
 nonplussed. Then he brightened. ** Did you see 
 the inside of it ? " 
 
 " Well, no— not really— I didn't ! " 
 
 "There you are, then! See the trickery? — 
 like a woman jest showin' the edge of her under- 
 flounce. I knew it. My dear feller, I knew it, 
 and couldn't bring myself to speak. And you tell 
 me that you're havin' a man like that in to supper, 
 poisonin' the air and your daughter's mind, and 
 havin' the shop talked about from here to Beckton 
 and back ? Do you think he's goin' to marry her 
 — a man that ain't slept at home for months, per- 
 haps years? I — I'd write and dare him this night 
 ever to come near the place again." 
 
 ** It's too late," Mr. Shadd said, desperately, 
 after the pause. ** Whether it's true or not, it's 
 too late." 
 
 *' Why?" 
 
 ** Because she's mad on him. The minute I 
 dared hint at it, she'd walk out of the place to 
 tell him, and never come back. She's like her 
 mother was. She'd have him if he'd got cloven 
 hoofs and a tail. I know it." 
 
 For a time, as they walked, Mr. Casswade 
 pulled and sucked at a cigar that was gone out. 
 The warning had utterly failed in its main effect. 
 As his brain worked laboriously in any but 
 
LOW SOCIETY 55 
 
 business matters, it required time to think of some- 
 thing that should give the position a right-about 
 twist in a natural manner. But he found it. 
 
 " P'raps you're right," he said, impressively. 
 '* In fact, I was half hopin*, for the girl's sake, 
 that that's how you'd be able to take it. There's 
 no earthly way o' findin' out the truth about him ; 
 and if you did, he'd only turn round and say you'd 
 been the same yourself in your young days, like 
 most of us." 
 
 ** I don't think I was," Mr. Shadd ventured, 
 
 warmly. ** In fact, I " The cigar waved 
 
 him aside pooh-poohingly. 
 
 " That's what we all say, afterwards ; that's 
 only natural. But what I mean is, how do we 
 know it's not all been put about purposely by 
 some other feller that wants her ? Has she ever 
 had another man after her? — that's the question." 
 
 ** Several, I believe," admitted Mr. Shadd. 
 ** Why, that young Sanders " 
 
 ** Blow young Sanders. There you are, then. 
 That explains it all. And I don't mind tellin' you, 
 I'm thunderin' glad for her sake. Because — well, 
 you needn't go mentionin' it to him or her yet, but 
 if things go on all right — if they do, mind you — 
 she'll most likely have a little cheque signed 
 * M. Casswade ' on her weddin' day. In fact, I'll 
 see she does. That's me." 
 
 " You'll have to come," said Mr. Shadd, swal- 
 lowing his emotion. ** I wouldn't have said so, 
 but I was only hoping things might turn out so 
 that he'd ask you to be his * best man.' " 
 
 "Me?" Casswade blew his nose violently. 
 " No, no, nothin' o' the kind. Don't you breathe 
 
56 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 anythin* o' that. Oh, no ! . . . Wait a minute 
 — I've forgot my clean handkerchief." 
 
 They were passing his residence. He went in, 
 gulped down two helpings of something from a 
 decanter, let off two or three curses, and came out 
 blowing his nose again. Miss Pugh reached the 
 foot of the staircase a shade too late. 
 
 ** If it*s not a rude question," said Mr. Shadd, 
 as they went on again, ** Your house must have 
 cost you something to buy and fit up? " 
 
 ** Four hundred odd, for a start. Build it 
 myself," he replied, offhand. " You couldn't buy 
 it for six hundred o' the best. Real stuff in it." 
 
 ** I thought so." Mr. Shadd was impressed, 
 and mentally lifted the face -value of the wedding- 
 day cheque from ten to twenty pounds. He 
 coughed. " Then, if it's not another rude ques- 
 tion, how can you afford to sell your new houses 
 up here at such a figure ? You must be losing 
 money." 
 
 "I'm givin' 'em away ; that's the explanation. 
 It's my hobby. And if your Selina was to snap one 
 
 up " He stopped, to use the handkerchief 
 
 again. He thought he had better not refer to 
 that subject. " Jest reminds me — I think Josh 
 sold the very last one yesterday. Yes, he did ! " 
 
 ** My word ! " said Mr. Shadd, thinking in 
 thousands now. ** Why, someone was telling me 
 there were forty of 'em, and a new row just 
 started behind. I must tell Mrs. Shadd. All 
 sold ! " 
 
 Casswade suddenly came to a halt. Things 
 were getting too intimate and complicated for his 
 liking. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 57 
 
 ** I clean forgot," he said. ** I had to see a 
 man about some deeds at ten to eleven sharp — a 
 man that's only home on Sunday mornin'. I'm 
 off. See you some other time ! " 
 
 He went on alone, wiping his shiny face. It 
 was undeniably very hot ; and he felt uncomfort- 
 ably feverish within, too. Nevertheless, it was 
 precisely the sort of day he had hoped for, and 
 the reason was obvious as he stepped on to the 
 New Eden area. In the sunshine, and beneath 
 this flawless blue heaven, the row of convenient 
 villas — those that were outwardly complete, at 
 least — had quite an alluring, greeting aspect. 
 Casswade noted with satisfaction that at least 
 three young couples, evidently contemplating 
 " settling down," but trying to look as though 
 house -purchase was the last thing in their minds, 
 were taking furtive stock of his property. 
 
 He hurried into the portable hut, said something 
 to his foreman there, grabbed two or three hand- 
 bills, and strolled down the pavement with his 
 hands behind him, and an expansive, philan- 
 thropic air of content in doing good — not by 
 stealth, but with open pride. He was humming 
 to himself the choice little couplet of his own 
 composition : 
 
 " Ten pound down, twenty-five when you sign, 
 And the house is yours, and no longer mine 1 " 
 
 ** Ah, lady, somethin' worth lookin' at there," 
 he said, as he reached the first couple. Cass- 
 wade was intuitive enough always to address the 
 lady on the artistic side, and leave business details 
 to the gentleman. ** Jest fancy ! Have you heard? 
 
58 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 — ten pound down, and it*s done. Yes, I built 
 every one of 'em ; and I can't say whether I shall 
 have one left to look at next Sunday. Breaks your 
 heart to let 'em go at the figure." 
 
 " Ten pounds seems a lot of money, doesn't 
 it ? " mused the young lady. " Would that be for 
 six months in advance, or what? " 
 
 ** We were merely thinking of renting a little 
 place," explained her male companion, with a 
 blush. And Casswade stiffened, and stared 
 stonily. 
 
 " They're for sale, if you notice," he said. '* I 
 could * let ' 'em all in half an hour ; but I'm not 
 havin' any o' that rubbish. Ten pound down " 
 
 The young couple edged on while they dared. 
 
 ** Got about threepence and their tram -fare 
 between 'em, I should say," Casswade remarked, 
 to his foreman. ** I never see such a Gawd- 
 forsaken lot in my life. What d'you make of 
 it, Josh?" 
 
 Josh was a man of many thoughts, but few 
 words . 
 
 ** I begin to think the game's nearly played 
 right out," he said, abstractedly chewing his 
 moustache -end. 
 
 '* Why? You reckon the birth-rate's dropped to 
 nothin', then — or what? " 
 
 Josh gave rather a ghastly little smile. He had 
 nine children of his own in the house opposite, and 
 had not much interest left in life as a consequence. 
 
 " I hear there's over a thousand houses * to 
 let ' within two miles," he said, ** and grass grown 
 over some o' the new pavements put down. Grim- 
 bley's brought his price down by another five 
 
LOW SOCIETY 59 
 
 pounds, I'm told, with a box of cigars thrown in 
 on completion." 
 
 " Oh, has he ? " commented Casswade, moodily. 
 '* Well, whatever happens, I shan't. I'll bust 
 first. Do your best. I'm goin' home to see 
 about a bit o' dinner myself. Send your boy up 
 for me if anyone looks like bis'ness. Seen Loney 
 about?" 
 
 *' Yes." The foreman looked down at the floor, 
 and laughed. ** He's over there on the new block. 
 He won't leave it now. He's picked up every chip 
 and shaving, and put 'em all in a neat stack. And 
 not one of the kids dare go near it." 
 
 With a deep, reciprocative chuckle Casswade 
 smoothed his silk hat and rolled away. He fully 
 intended to return immediately after dinner, a 
 blue-and-gold Sunday being such a likely day ; 
 but two pints of bottled stout with a fair meal 
 somehow induced a drowsiness. Miss Pugh care- 
 fully arranged two cushions behind his head to 
 prevent the blood rising to it too rapidly, and the 
 rest was easy. He awoke about five o'clock. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Swooning amber and lilac tints lay low in the 
 sky when Mr. Casswade reached the estate 
 " office " again. He looked in ; the foreman was 
 not there. Rather anxiously he looked about : 
 it was incredible that Josh should have taken a 
 ** nap " and left the estate to look after itself. 
 He moved down the pavement ; a comfortable 
 thrill ran through him as he reached Number 
 Nine — the first unoccupied house in the row. 
 
 In the entrance hall stood a little group of 
 three, and one was Josh. Josh was speaking ; and 
 the little woman tightly linked to a listening man's 
 arm was watching his lips with rapt, upturned face. 
 It was all right I — Hungerford had brought her 
 openly. 
 
 Casswade was not spoiling an interesting pic- 
 ture. He leaned over the railing and watched. 
 From the first he had been rather ** taken " with 
 the look of the tall, slight young fellow with the 
 dark little curls and the quiet, questioning smile ; 
 and he came almost near envying him possession 
 of the soft and delicate creature who clung to him 
 as to a hero about to undertake an incredible 
 exploit on her behalf. Perhaps he was 1 — if he 
 expected the house to last him an average lifetime 
 and then pass on to his heirs. 
 
 Casswade 's ideal female, if he had one, inclined 
 
LOW SOCIETY 6i 
 
 decidedly to the big, buxom order ; but on special 
 occasions he could overlook another man's taste in 
 that direction. In the abstract, he would have 
 dismissed the future Mrs. Hungerford as a fluffy 
 little chicken, hardly out of the egg, and not old 
 enough or big enough to know anything about 
 marriage. But, against the background of the 
 tall, dark, serious young man, her elfin daintiness, 
 her wistful happiness, her wide blue eyes in a small 
 oval face, gave a distinctive and romantic touch 
 to the picture. Casswade acutely calculated that 
 she wouldn't worry him to death about wall-papers 
 and ceiling-cracks, so long as she could don a 
 matronly appearance and feel that it was hers — 
 the home that the man had bought for her. 
 
 Half unconsciously she looked round, her lips 
 still parted, the listening look in her eyes ; and 
 young Hungerford looked round too. Casswade 
 swung his glossy hat, and advanced with out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 "How do, Mr. Hungerford? How do, Mrs. 
 Hungerford? " he added, carried away by his own 
 heartiness. Her faint flush, and the pressure of 
 the man's hand on hers, escaped him. ** Comin* 
 into my office, were you? Ah, it's Sunday — I 
 forgot ! Josh, bring a soft chair in for the lady — 
 and tell the decorators I must have them other 
 nine houses finished off by Tuesday." This was 
 an understood signal for Josh to retire and dg 
 nothing at all. Casswade strode on down the 
 passage, which was just spacious enough to con- 
 tain him. ** What do you think of it now, sir? — 
 what does the lady think of it ? That's solid 
 stuff, eh? " He gave a really mighty drive at a 
 
62 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 portion of the wall that he knew would stand it. 
 " That's what you've got to think of, ma'am. 
 You don't want a bloomin' egg-shell that'll cave in 
 on you one night — although I'm sorry to say 
 there's one or two builders near here I could name 
 that can paint egg-boxes to look like iron — a cruel 
 thing to do. Just cast your eye on the garden, 
 sir. It don't want two looks. Virgin soil, never 
 been trod on. You could grow enough vegetables 
 there for nine people all the year round." 
 
 *' I certainly should try to — for two," Hunger- 
 ford said, thoughtfully. He did not look exactly 
 like a successful vegetable grower — his hands 
 were too long and white, and his manner too 
 dreamy. But undoubtedly the rear strip of ground, 
 bathed in sunset hues, suggested pleasant possi- 
 bilities. Casswade wheeled to the lady, while the 
 iron was hot. 
 
 " Come up to the bedrooms, ma'am," he said, 
 with the blunt solemnity of one paving the way 
 for a revelation. "You'd like to know jest where 
 and how you're goin' to live for the next few years 
 to come ; I should myself. There's no hole-and- 
 corner business here." 
 
 They followed, their steps echoing hollowly 
 through the empty spaces. 
 
 *' Look at it," Casswade said, indicating first 
 of all a cubicle about ten feet by six. " Imagine 
 a blue and yeller paper on that. And that's 
 only the back bedroom. The front " 
 
 "It's rather small, dear, isn't it?" she whis- 
 pered, looking up into Hungerford's face — ready 
 to think it most roomy if he seemed satisfied. 
 
 "Small?" the amazed Casswade repeated. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 63 
 
 ** My dear lady, it's meant to be. It's bijou 
 throughout — that's the modern demand. We 
 can't sell a bigger house at any price. People 
 want to be near one another and comfortable, 
 like. You put your fav'rite visitor in that room, 
 because it's warm, and faces due south. Think o' 
 that' ma'am — due south. Here's where youHl 
 sleep." 
 
 He led the way. The wave of his hand indicated 
 that no words were needed here. They paused 
 at the doorway, looking silently in. Indeed, the 
 ** dancey " eyes of the girl had actually filmed a 
 little, as if she were not thinking of the room at 
 all, but of something in the future which it sug- 
 gested. Casswade put them down as a thunder- 
 ing queer couple, who knew no more about house- 
 keeping and house -value than they knew about 
 rum hot. Many of his prospective clients had 
 been known to probe every ceiling, bang every 
 floorboard, and wreak absolute damage before they 
 decided to go home and make up their fickle 
 minds. These two stood like a pair of grave, 
 old-fashioned children. 
 
 ** What do you think, Ella ? " Hungerford asked 
 at length, looking down at her. 
 
 She looked up. ** I think just what you do," 
 she said, with the suspicion of a tremble. 
 
 •'You'd like it?" 
 
 ** She'd love it," Casswade put in, his own 
 voice almost breaking. " I speak from experi- 
 ence. I built the place myself. You know what 
 I mean, sir — when you get fond of anythin', you 
 don't like to part with it." 
 
 The girl whispered, and the man whispered 
 
64 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 back. Another pause. The girl pressed his hand, 
 as if in mute confidence or gratitude. The man 
 smiled back. Casswade, breathing hard, could 
 make neither top nor tail of this byplay. 
 
 Then Hungerford turned. There was an air of 
 finality about him — if with a queer reservation. 
 At the foot of the stair he beckoned to Casswade, 
 and moved into the empty front parlour. Ella 
 stood on the step, looking out at the dying sun- 
 glow over Barking Town. 
 
 ** Well, I have viewed your house three times, 
 Mr. Casswade," Hungerford began, in his quiet, 
 self-contained way. " I don't want you to think 
 I'm playing the fool with you ; and yet, even now, 
 I can't see my way quite clear, much as I would 
 wish to close with you on the spot." 
 
 ** You can't ? Ain't — er — ain't the lady's people 
 quite agreeable?" Casswade queried, anxious to 
 come to the point. 
 
 •* Nothing of that." He smiled. ** To be frank, 
 it's purely a question of money." 
 
 " Money ! " Casswade felt gloomy, and looked 
 it. This word haunted him. ** Money, eh? " 
 
 ** Yes. You see " he hesitated, as if not 
 
 accustomed to speaking of his private affairs ; 
 then went determinedly on : "I want to be honest, 
 Mr. Casswade, both with you and myself. I have 
 figured it out roughly. Beyond the ten pounds 
 deposit, there are other preliminary expenses — 
 a good many, in fact. It must sound very paltry 
 to you, no doubt ; but I am so placed at present 
 that I — well, I am waiting for better things to 
 come, so to put it. The Loan Society repay- 
 ments, with the rates and taxes, will be as much as 
 
LOW SOCIETY 65 
 
 I can manage for the present. Add to that my 
 
 marriage, and the cost of furnishing " He 
 
 paused again, his lips set. 
 
 ** Have a smoke," Casswade said, proffering 
 his case. ** I can't offer you a drink.** 
 
 ** No, thanks ; I'll have both with you at another 
 time. Just this ! *' He put his hand on Cass- 
 wade*s shoulder. " It galls me, but it happens to 
 be truth. I wanted the house, and should have 
 liked to come straight to it ; but what is the use 
 of cheating myself, if I can't quite see my way 
 to raise the twenty-five pounds on signing the 
 deeds ? It is a small hitch, of course ; but ** 
 
 ** It's a big hitch, and that's a fact," Casswade 
 said. He thought hard — apparently. He had met 
 the same hitch before, and removed it himself 
 without too much self-sacrifice. In this parti- 
 cular case, too, he had his own thoughts. ** Well, 
 now," he said, sinking his voice, "I'm goin' to 
 make a departure. I don't ask questions ; I like 
 you, and I think you like me. And I wouldn*t 
 care to see you done out o' the house, and live 
 in three rooms, as I s'pose you first thought of 
 doin*. Mr. Hungerford, twenty-five pounds mustn't 
 stand in your way. It shan't. I'd lose it myself 
 first." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Mel Can't I trust you? Don't I know a 
 gentleman? I'll find the money myself, and it 
 can stand over at a nominal five per cent, interest 
 till I come and ask you for it. And that won't be 
 yet. That's settled." 
 
 " It's very, very good of you," Hungerford said, 
 gripping his hand. It seemed as if he might still 
 
 L.s. F 
 
66 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 have misgivings, but felt it mean to speak of them 
 after so friendly and unexpected a compromise. 
 To Casswade, in that moment, it was made suffi- 
 ciently clear that this was his first experience as a 
 borrower in any shape or form, and that he himself 
 wore quite a halo . 
 
 Yet again Hungerford gripped his hand. It 
 was becoming a little embarrassing. Casswade 
 moved hastily to the window, took out a pocket- 
 book, and appeared to be making some deep, 
 irrevocable entry. 
 
 ** There ! Now, don't worry any more about 
 that,*' he advised, cheerfully. He had almost a 
 fatherly appearance in the half-light. " I'll see 
 you to-morrow evening at my office — Monday's 
 always a lucky day. Bring your ten pounds, sign 
 the agreement, and simply leave the rest to me. 
 Now — " he swung round — " What paper would 
 Mrs. Hungerford like on this 'ere wall, d'you 
 think?" 
 
 " 'Sh ! " Hungerford said, smiling again. 
 ** You're premature, you know." 
 
 " Eh? Oh, it's all one to me. Bless you, I'm 
 not one to stick over a word or a week." 
 
 " You're a married man yourself, of course? " 
 the other said, never doubting it. 
 
 " Me ? Oh, cert'nly — to be sure ! " He laughed 
 quite jovially, mainly concerned at the moment 
 with cementing the intimacy to ensure the deal. 
 And, on an impulse, Hungerford turned. 
 
 " Ella ! I'm saying that he must bring Mrs. 
 Casswade in one evening for an hour or so, when 
 we are settled down here — mustn't he? " 
 
 "Eh? Oh — er — yes, very pleased — er — very 
 
LOW SOCIETY 67 
 
 good of you, Vm sure ! " Under Ella's clear eyes 
 he turned the awkward point a little flurriedly. 
 " Ah, here's my foreman. Another married man, 
 Mr. Hungerford ; only he's bungled it — not like 
 you and me, eh ? — ha, ha ! Nine o' the best to 
 keep ; only nine. Nine's his unlucky number, I 
 tell him. Married at nineteen, got nine children, 
 and — er — very likely only another nine months to 
 live." 
 
 Ella looked at Hungerford, whose lips fought 
 against a twitch. The foreman coughed and 
 looked a trifle uncomfortable. Mr. Casswade 
 remembered it was Sunday, and pulled himself 
 together. 
 
 ** It's settled, Josh," he said, wiping his face. 
 " I've lost another house — he's got it. Whatever 
 you do, don't let me forget that Mr. Hungerford 
 will be here to-morrow evening — what time did 
 you say, sir? " 
 
 Hungerford hesitated. Then, " Make it Tues- 
 day, at seven o'clock," he said. 
 
 ** Right ! " He made another deep, irrevocable 
 entry. ** I only wanted to keep up the classi- 
 ness of the estate," he said, with emotion, closing 
 the book. ** I haven't failed yet." 
 
 They had another glance at the walls, at the 
 rear rooms, at the garden beyond — as if with a 
 new, bated interest, Ella clinging more tightly 
 than ever ; and then they shook hands and went 
 away in the dusk, the woman looking up, the 
 man looking down. 
 
 ** Decent feller I Decent bis'ness, I call that," 
 muttered Mr. Casswade with genuine satisfac- 
 tion, looking after them. ** I knew he'd bite — 
 
 F 2 
 
68 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 although he didn't. Smartest sale IVe had. 
 What d'you think?" He turned about, with a 
 convulsive chuckle. "Asked me point blank if 
 I was married, and I went and told 'em I was. 
 All right, ain't it ?— me ! So you'll know, if he 
 says anythin' about ' Mrs. Casswade ' to you. 
 Needn't make myself out a bloomin' liar." 
 
 Josh screwed his face into a ghastly little grin. 
 It did strike him as humorous— anything con- 
 nected with that topic, of which he knew so much 
 and Casswade so little. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 On the evening of Tuesday, September loth, as 
 gravely recorded in the journal of wedded life 
 kept by Ella for a whole month — and thereafter 
 transferred to her memory — Jim Hungerford put 
 down ten sovereigns and signed the momentous 
 agreement. A little lamp flickered in the estate 
 " office/' only a few streaks of lemon light being 
 left in the sky outside. In niggling little char- 
 acters Mr. Matt Casswade put his name to that 
 document and to a duplicate copy. Once again 
 Hungerford took the pen, and signed in turn the 
 purely formal little note -of -hand for the private 
 loan of twenty-five pounds at a nominal five per 
 cent, interest. Josh, the foreman, stood silently 
 by as a sort of witness to the fact that there 
 had been no undue coercion or misrepresentation. 
 It was done. 
 
 " All bar one thing," Casswade recollected. 
 ** We can't leave these two blanks. You haven't 
 filled in what you are, Mr. Hungerford— by trade, 
 profession, or what not." 
 
 " Well, I'm nothing," he said, frankly and 
 simply. 
 
 ** Nothing? " They stared at him with mixed 
 reverence and incredulity. "I'm afraid * nothin' ' 
 won't go down on a document," Casswade rumi- 
 nated. '* You might be anythin', you see — a 
 
JO LOW SOCIETY 
 
 burglar restin', or anythin' o' that sort, in the legal 
 eye — eh. Josh? " And Josh thought it probable. 
 
 He stood firm. It was clear that, either for 
 doubtful reasons, or because he preferred strict 
 privacy as regarded the neighbours, he had no 
 information to supply on that score. 
 
 *' I've got it," Casswade said. ** I'll put you 
 down as * gent.' That's legal enough. You're a 
 retired gent, Mr. Hungerford, rollin' in wealth and 
 with a fancy for buyin' houses. When you've 
 bought this one, you'll want to buy more, same as 
 I did. With bricks and mortar behind you, sir, 
 you can face the blessed world on stilts. Eh, 
 Josh?" 
 
 Josh thought it more than feasible. Strictly 
 speaking, he had no genuine experience, as he 
 was only the ornamental " buyer " of the first 
 house on each new block begun, and had to shift 
 his belongings and nine children with a depress- 
 ing frequency. 
 
 Hungerford lingered a minute, looking at a slip 
 of paper he held. They had been wondering what 
 on earth was on it. 
 
 ** I was figuring it out," he said. " I see that 
 the yearly interest on the balance loaned increases 
 the price of the house by about a hundred and 
 twenty pounds." 
 
 "What's that?" Casswade laughed, lying 
 back, hands deep in his pockets. He had the 
 ten pounds safe in one. '* You don't notice it, 
 spread out over them years ; you get used to it, 
 like your meals. And look what you've got for 
 your money ! There'll be simply the ten or twelve 
 pounds extra for makin' the road and pavement — 
 
LOW SOCIETY 71 
 
 eh ? Oh, yes, you all have to pay that, of course — 
 it's in the deeds. And then there's about the same 
 amount for — but what's the use o' worryin' over 
 nothin' ? " He fancied the listener had winced. 
 " What I always say to a young couple jest 
 marryin' is, the quickest way they can cripple 
 'emselves is by havin' a crowd o' children comin' 
 along. It's suicide, sir, as people are only jest 
 beginnin* to see for 'emselves. In time to come, 
 people '11 ask 'emselves sensibly how many tlieir 
 money can run to, same as they choose between 
 rump steak and a pound o' sixpenny pieces. Then 
 there won't be no out -o' -works and lunatics and 
 wasters. Look at Josh here, with his unlucky 
 number " 
 
 Josh turned and walked away. It was singular 
 that at the moment a trio of working men with 
 heads down should appear at the road -bend, chant- 
 ing in different keys a doleful ditty concerning the 
 fate of their wives and children, and ending with 
 the pointed reminder : " For you don't know what 
 you may come to 1 " Casswade rose resentfully 
 from his stool, and banged the desk lid. 
 
 " Dunno how you think, but I call it time it 
 was put a stop to," he said. " Some of 'em raided 
 my timber-yard last week. I hadn't the heart to 
 give 'em in charge — leastways, I couldn't catch 
 'em at it. Things ain't safe. There's only a p'lice 
 force between that mob and the bloomin' sack 
 o* London. The licker is, it ain't come yet ; but 
 it will, you mark me, the way things are goin' on. 
 Trade's that bad, where a man could drink good 
 whiskey a few years back, he's got to put up 
 with beer in bottle nowadays. You're good at 
 
72 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 figurin' out figures, ain't you, Mr. Hungerford? 
 Well, jest how long will it be, with a new inven- 
 tion every day to do the work o* ten men, and 
 people bringin' kids into the world galore, before 
 half England's out o' work and livin' on the other 
 half? I mayn't see it : you will. We've asked 
 for it, and we've got it. There's only one lot 
 makin* a fat livin' and layin' money and stock 
 quietly by all the while, and that's the profes- 
 sional religion lot — what they call the Estab- 
 lished Church. I'd Church 'em ! As Marionette 
 Dick says, the whole lot ought to be made to 
 practise what they preach ; there wouldn't be a 
 dozen left in it come Chris'mas. If there's one 
 thing I ain't, Mr. Hungerford, it's a bloomin* 
 hypocrite.** 
 
 Mr. Casswade had managed to lock the office 
 door while he delivered himself of this public 
 warning, and now suddenly held out his hand. 
 
 ** I'm not goin' to keep you from the lady 
 another minnit," he said. " You and her '11 come 
 down and see what you want and what you don't 
 want. It'll be ready when you are." 
 
 ** Thanks 1 ** 
 
 Hungerford gripped the puff of purple flesh in 
 his long white fingers, and walked away as if 
 quietly glad that matters were clinched. Cass- 
 wade took a quick nip from a flask, and looked 
 around. 
 
 The liquor apparently met some lump in his 
 throat. For a second his face crimsoned, as 
 as though he had thought of the treacherous 
 inward fat. But it was not that. Coming that 
 way, at a steady saunter, were two figures that 
 
LOW SOCIETY T2, 
 
 seemed unpleasantly familiar in the dusk just 
 then. Selina, in a large mushroom hat and her 
 ** party " white dress, with the bodice cut low, 
 rather dwarfed the stiff, bowler -hatted male figure 
 at her side ; but the fact that they were arm-in- 
 arm was sufficient. It looked like crafty design 
 Hungerford had to pass within a few feet of them. 
 Casswade literally held his breath — he scarcely 
 knew why, or what there was definitely to fear 
 now. He only recollected the menace and his 
 dream. 
 
 It passed. Hungerford had gone on uncon- 
 scious and unchallenged. But all was not over. 
 Selina and her young man paused, and then turned 
 the bend and came on straight toward the port- 
 able ** office." Casswade felt glad of the dusk. 
 He had just time to blow his nose with sufficient 
 violence to account for his apoplectic flush. 
 
 ** Good gracious I " he said, with a start of 
 surprise. "Is it you? How's your father?" 
 
 " Nicely, I think — just the same as on Sunday. 
 How's Mr. Casswade?" Selina returned, with 
 a sound like a laugh that he could not quite 
 fathom. It might mean that she had heard of the 
 wedding-day cheque, or it might be the feminine 
 way of leading up to something very difi"erent. 
 
 " Bonny," he said. It was the only suitable 
 word he could think of. He kept his eye strictly 
 on her, till he could be sure what Baversham's 
 fixed stare had behind it. " How's yourself? " 
 
 ** Just the same as on Saturday," she replied, 
 with a similar sound. 
 
 There seemed no one else worth enquiring 
 after. They stood uncertainly still for a moment, 
 
74 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and then Selina pulled at her young man's 
 arm. 
 
 " I thought you had something to say," she 
 said, stuffing her handkerchief into her mouth. 
 And this broke the spell. 
 
 "Ah, how do ? " Casswade asked, with a short 
 nod. 
 
 *' Never better." Baversham tilted his bowler a 
 little. *' Yes, I've come to say that I think I'd 
 better settle and done with it. I've bitten." 
 
 ''You've— what?" 
 
 '* Bitten. Not half bitten, either. The house, 
 I mean. I thought of buyin' one of yours, you 
 remember." 
 
 "When was this?" Casswade enquired, after 
 a moment, his mottled face a study. 
 
 " Why — er — last week. My name's Hunger- 
 ford, you know." 
 
 Selina let loose a half -stifled peal of laughter. 
 George did not move a muscle. The rainbow 
 hues just visible in Mr. Casswade's face assumed 
 their brightest tint, and then faded away. He 
 pointed. 
 
 " Look here," he said, huskily, " I had my joke, 
 and you've had yours. Don't let it go any farther. 
 Else you may find a nine -stone man and a seven- 
 teen -stone man ain't a fair match. I'll put it to 
 Selina as well, if you like I " 
 
 "You're more than nine stone, aren't you?" 
 Selina enquired, indignantly, of her young man. 
 " Why, I'm over that myself." 
 
 " Never mind," Casswade went darkly on, re- 
 covering himself in a degree. " You heard what 
 I said. Don't think to begin any game on me. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 75 
 
 or there's no knowin' where it '11 stop. You're 
 a couple of half-baked young fools, that's what 
 you are." 
 
 ** Very likely," Selina said, looking away. ** It 
 was a young fool that brought Goliath down, 
 so they say." And Casswade was intensely struck. 
 
 "What d'you mean?" he asked, breathing 
 hard. "Come, what d'you mean? Are you 
 callin' me a Goliath, or whatever his name was? " 
 
 " It's known from here to Beckton, and back 
 again," she replied, absently. 
 
 "What is?" 
 
 " Why, that my young man hasn't slept at home 
 for weeks on end." 
 
 She made a sudden swoop forward. George 
 shot out his arm, but it was too late. Leaping up, 
 she brought her open hand sideways against Mr. 
 Casswade 's fleshy face with a crack that could 
 have been heard in the houses beyond. 
 
 "Take that," she panted. "And that." 
 
 Her left hand produced a similar crack from his 
 other cheek. " That's from the woman. Now," 
 she said, standing back to pluck at George, " Give 
 him a taste oS a man's hand, between the eyes. 
 Black *em I Go on 1 — take your coat off, or I 
 will for you." 
 
 She tugged at the garment. George looked, 
 and hesitated. " No," he demurred ; "he's had 
 enough for to-night, by the look of him. I'll 
 wait." He went close. " Good-night, Seven - 
 teen-stone," he said, briefly. " My turn'll come 
 —it'll be all the fresher." 
 
 Arm-in-arm, they walked calmly off. Casswade 
 stood, tears pouring from his eyes, a livid patch on 
 
76 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 either cheek showing plain in the half-light . Selina, 
 as she said, was no featherweight ; but the stun- 
 ning physical pain was as nothing compared to 
 the sick sense of chagrin and foreboding that 
 followed. For the first time for years, Casswade 
 seemed to feel a real void at the pit of his stomach. 
 He had some wild idea of calling George back and 
 offering to take the blow between the eyes then 
 and there, to settle matters. It seemed so pos- 
 sible that a young couple of that description 
 might succeed in making him a laughing-stock 
 from end to end of Barking. 
 
 Presently he brought himself to peer round. 
 No, no one had noticed. He whistled a little, 
 before he moved, to disarm any suspicion. Then 
 he strolled into Number Nine. The water was 
 laid on here. He held his cheeks heroically in 
 turn under the kitchen -tap as long as he could 
 keep his body bent. A good deal of the water 
 spirted below his collar and trickled out at his 
 boots, leaving a most uncomfortable sensation all 
 over him as he stood up gasping again ; but the 
 worst was over. He was able to construct a curse 
 to fit Mr. Shadd's treachery ; and. for about five 
 minutes Ella's kitchen was full of it. In fact, he 
 cursed everything animate and inanimate he could 
 think of. 
 
 It relieved him — spite of all that conscientious 
 theorists might urge. As he set out again in the 
 dark, he could chuckle at the mere narrow margin 
 by which Hungerford's deal had been consum- 
 mated, if only just to spite the young puppies. He 
 even concentrated his brain upon a project of 
 anonymous postcards and tremendous innuendoes 
 
LOW SOCIETY Tj 
 
 concerning Baversham that should render the latter 
 an impossible husband for any woman outside 
 Bedlam. And, in pursuance of this policy, he was 
 deep enough to determine on the spot to treat the 
 whole affair — outwardly — as a foolish joke that 
 had left no sting. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Surveying himself furtively as he passed a 
 tailor's window -glass, Mr. Casswade judged his 
 appearance to be fairly normal. He allowed the 
 fresh air Jto blow upon him for a few minutes 
 longer, and then quite confidently pushed open 
 the door of his " local " and advanced up the 
 three -ha'penny bar. A glance round to make 
 certain that the man with the uncomfortable " fat " 
 theory was an absentee, and he felt almost himself 
 again. He drank a pint of bitter beer without a 
 pause for breath. 
 
 " You'll die if you go on like that," said the 
 bright bar -lady, archly offended. ** Why don't 
 you sip it, like I do ? " 
 
 " You'd starve, if we did," he retorted. And 
 she saw the force of it at once. 
 
 ** Quite right," she said, becoming serious. 
 ** Nature arranged it so, of course. I saved this 
 flower especially for you, Mr. Casswade — a dear, 
 teeny, weeny little love of a rosebud. Look ! " 
 
 ** Humph I " he grunte'd. " What d'you take me 
 for?— a ballet girl?" 
 
 '* Oh, hush, Mr. Casswade," she said, as though 
 hurt by another adjective. "I'm surprised at you. 
 I thought there were a few gentlemen left in 
 Barking." 
 
 ** I don't come across many," he commented. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 79 
 
 with vague emphasis. ** Gimme another pint and 
 go away. I want to taste what it*s like." 
 
 Presently he wheeled round on his stool . There 
 was an animated discussion going on in the bar 
 that threatened to develop into argument. Even 
 his appearance had failed to check it . 
 
 ** What's it all about? " he demanded. " Free 
 trade, or free beer, or what ? " 
 
 The butcher's manager from round the corner 
 swung round as to a final arbiter. 
 
 *' Here you are, ask Mr. Casswade — he'll tell 
 you whether I'm right — which I am. I'm talkin' 
 about Jews and Germans " 
 
 ** My Gawd, then I'm off," said Mr. Casswade, 
 hastily seizing his beer. 
 
 ** No, half a minute ! I'm saying that there's 
 over a million Jews in this country, and that you 
 never see a poor one, or one dragging a barrel- 
 organ, or one ringing the workhouse bell. And 
 why ? Is there anyone in the wide world that can 
 answer that question ? How is it that a Jew comes 
 over here with fourpence and a dirty shirt, and a 
 few years later you find him coining money in 
 some shop or other of his own ? How ? This 
 party here " — indicating a man who sat with his 
 legs crossed and a puzzling smile on his face — 
 " wants to tell me that " 
 
 "Is he a Jew? " Casswade put in, glaring at 
 the man. ** What's he doin' here, spendin' money ? 
 What's he drinkin' ? " 
 
 " No, sir^ I can't say I'm a Jew," the man an- 
 swered for himself, placidly ; " and I'm not drink- 
 ing anything, because I'm not thirsty. Just as I 
 have nothing to say against Jews as Jews, so I am 
 
8o LOW SOCIETY 
 
 not ashamed of entering a public-house. Allow 
 me to offer you a leaflet, sir. It will show you 
 that I am going from place to place in this district 
 in the name of the True God, as opposed to the 
 theatrical Deity which our Romish Church pro- 
 fesses to worship." 
 
 ** What's he talkin' about? *' Casswade glanced 
 at the pamphlet. " I can see you bein* thrown 
 out into the street," he opined, candidly. 
 
 ** Quite possibly, sir," was the cheerful reply. 
 ** ril only keep you gentlemen a few minutes from 
 your own topics. Now, I have here a little book. 
 It is known as the Holy Bible. I ask you, as 
 sensible fellow-men, who know that the time has 
 come in this country to think and to act, what 
 there is in common between the religion taught 
 us in this Book, and the religion taught to-day by 
 the Church?" 
 
 He waited. He was obviously an eccentric, but 
 one gifted with the quiet method which convinces. 
 
 ** Well, now, you can call it a bloomin' funny 
 thing," Casswade said, looking round at the others, 
 ** but I was sayin* much the same to a friend o* 
 mine not an hour ago. I wanted to know myself, 
 same as this chap, how much longer we're goin' 
 to pamper up a Church with palaces and millions 
 o' money, that hasn't done a bloomin' iota o* 
 good in a thousand years to anyone or anythin' — 
 'cept itself. How's that?" 
 
 ** You put it bluntly, sir, but you're on the 
 mark," said the man, nodding courteously. " If 
 Christ came to earth again. He would not recog- 
 nize that Church as His Own in any particular. 
 For one thing, there is no sincerity or meaning in 
 
LOW SOCIETY 8 1 
 
 a religion whose exponents make money, and 
 superfluous money, by it — whose ' ministers ' are 
 mechanically turned out of a theological machine 
 to fight and manoeuvre for the best * livings.' 
 The whole thing is a huge, bright bubble. The 
 man who has a call from God to help and guide 
 his fellow -men must obey involuntarily — must in 
 honesty yield up all save the bare necessaries of 
 existence ; and the only proof of his genuine belief 
 and desire can lie essentially in his life of self- 
 sacrifice — because his Master had not even where 
 to lay His head.** 
 
 *' Jest what I said — or what I meant to say,'* 
 agreed Casswade, with a gulp at his tankard. 
 " That's right enough — as far as it goes." 
 
 " But it is not exactly what I began to say,'* 
 went on the other. *' This pamphlet contains a 
 specific impeachment " 
 
 "What might that be?" asked Casswade, 
 narrowly. 
 
 ** If you listen, sir, I'll tell you. Our Church, 
 under another name, is still the Church of Rome. 
 In this Book, I find no mention anywhere of paid 
 Bishops, Arch -bishops. Deans, Canons, Rectors, 
 Curates — or anything of that. I find no mention 
 of palaces and thousands a year as earthly reward 
 for those whose spontaneous truth and sincerity 
 made them give up all and follow The Christ — to 
 help others to find Christ. Our Church can 
 never reach those who need it most of all — the 
 struggling, repining masses. It is a grave ques- 
 tion, my friends, whether the Church really wants 
 to reach them : the incongruity would be too 
 marked and too grotesque. You never see a 
 L.s. G 
 
82 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 poor, ragged man in a church, do you ? The 
 theatrical pomp that passes for holy atmosphere 
 sends him slinking away. The Church offers a 
 rich man's religion. They of the underworld, 
 living in hovels, crawling along the dark ditches 
 and by-ways, look up at the glittering episcopal 
 edifices, peopled by ministers in costly raiment 
 who have never missed a meal or slept out of a 
 dainty bed. If you stripped the pomp away from 
 the Church, you would find a grinning, bleached 
 skeleton. This Church — this Romish Church — 
 calls to the people across an unbridgable gulf. It 
 spends vast sums in outward ornament and elab- 
 orate procedure, knowing perfectly well that 
 thousands of those over whom Christ yearns are 
 lacking a crust of bread, and see their little ones 
 perish for lack of nutrition. It refuses to bury a 
 child not ' baptised,' although Christ said : ' Let 
 the little ones come unto Me.' It is an imperious, 
 luxurious, sensuous, self -cheating mockery. It 
 loves cloistered ease and repose, drugging to the 
 conscience ; it appeals only to the emotions, and 
 never to the heart ; its every word and action 
 comes across footlights. And let me remind you, 
 gentlemen, that it draws most of its resources from 
 ancient endowments which many of our greatest 
 statesmen and thinkers have declared to belong to 
 the nation. But the pilfering Church is protected 
 
 by its bland mask of religion, and hence " 
 
 He was interrupted. Beyond the bar door a 
 man with a deep, resonant voice, accompanied by 
 a man with an indifferent fiddle, had burst out 
 into " Alice, where art thou? " And this was one 
 of the songs to which, for some unknown reason, 
 
LOW SOCIETY 83 
 
 one must always listen. A pause ; and then the 
 singer had begun cleverly again on a note which 
 can never fail while the language lasts and men 
 have minds a simple song can reach — " Annie 
 Laurie." His third attempt, " The Kerry Dance," 
 saddest and gladdest of known melodies, was 
 scarcely as successful, as his accompanist, essay- 
 ing to execute a few quick movements on the 
 strings, gave evidence of having been '* treated " 
 too liberally. Then from bar to bar the singer came 
 groping his way. He proved to be a man long 
 since broke and blinded in England's wars, and 
 allowed to extract sympathy by the exhibition of 
 his scars. Mr. Casswade was moved to the extent 
 of three -ha'pence. 
 
 " What d'you expect, if you join the army," 
 said Casswade. " You asked for it, and you've 
 got it, and now you're grumblin'. Go on I " 
 He turned almost affably to the surprising man 
 with no beer. " You was sayin' somethin' about 
 masks." 
 
 ** I went, the other Sunday evening," said the 
 eccentric, uncrossing his legs and leaning for- 
 ward, " into a church not many miles from 
 where we sit. A Divine Service was supposed 
 to be held. There was a rustle of silks and satins 
 and laces, and a wave of scent, all around me. 
 I think most of the worshippers were won- 
 dering whether I had paid for a seat in 
 any pew for the privilege of worshipping, because 
 the vergers shifted me twice. The singing, 
 chanting, and effect of light and shade upon 
 the stained windows, were as realistic and artistic 
 as anything I have seen and heard in a theatre. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 The preacher, a pale young man in a flowing robe, 
 and with a double name, evidently thought him- 
 self inspired in the pulpit, and consequently the 
 audience thought him inspired, too. He spoke 
 in a soft, well -modulated voice for about twenty 
 minutes, and looked at his watch twice, in case 
 he might be boring us ; because church-goers 
 don't care to be cheated out of more than their 
 regulation twenty minutes in one week. He told 
 us our whole duty to God and to man, he told us 
 to succour the needy and chastise the flesh ; and 
 then the audience gave a gentle ' Ha I ' and rustle 
 of relief, as he turned and went home to his three- 
 course dinner at the Rectory, with wine and 
 walnuts and shilling magazines to follow. And 
 the organ pealed out as if he had done a noble 
 thing, and the audience a nobler still in being so 
 orthodox and sincere as to leave their servants 
 hard at work while they attended Divine Service. 
 It was a nice, comfortable, perfumed, gentlemen's 
 religion, hailing from Rome. I don't know what 
 the preacher could or would have said if in front 
 of him had sat five hundred famished and desper- 
 ate unemployed. I expect he would have told 
 them that they had come short in the sight of God, 
 and must bear their punishment accordingly — 
 and then instructed his vergers to have the church 
 cleaned out. But let me draw your attention to 
 page two of this pamphlet " 
 
 He was tapped on the shoulder. ** The guv 'nor 
 says, would you mind goin' on to the next house, 
 matey? " 
 
 He gathered up his literature, smiled, and went. 
 He was used to it. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 85 
 
 ** But he's right," Casswade declared. ** They're 
 the very words I used, believe me or not." 
 
 " No doubt. There's bunkum in everything, if 
 you look for it," coldly explained the butcher's 
 man from round the corner, who resented having 
 the argument lifted bodily out of his hands. 
 "You expect it. When the Bishop goes for his 
 trip to the South o' France, he makes no bones 
 about it — he admits all his talk about the needle - 
 eye and the camel is all Sunday bunkum. So 
 does your big shopkeeper, who goes to church 
 on Sundays and has to tell business lies to cus- 
 tomers all the week or put up his shutters. 
 There's bunkum, I always hold, in the very idea 
 that you can go on sinning so long as you repent 
 each time, because it shows religion don't really 
 alter a man at all. We live on bunkum, same as 
 nations do one with the other. We're told these 
 actresses marry noblemen out o' pure love, and 
 we take it in — till they're divorced. We're told 
 it's sacred for people to get married, although we 
 know most of 'em '11 be biting and scratching in a 
 few months. We're expected to think M.P.'s and 
 County Councillors work for love of their fellow- 
 men, although we know that few of 'em 'ud dare 
 show their books. And there you are I It's all 
 kid. I'm kidding you, and you're kidding me, 
 at the present moment — if we liked to own it. 
 We'd sooner not." 
 
 Casswade drained his glass and struck a match. 
 " You're a bloomin' fool," he observed. " That's 
 what you are." 
 
 •• Oh 1 " the other said, limply. " And why ? " 
 
 "'Cause you are. Ain't that good enough? 
 
86 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 You look it, and you talk like it. If you know 
 anythin' at all, you know there's alius two sets o' 
 people in the world, and alius will be. There's 
 the kidder, and the — the *' 
 
 " Kidd^^," suggested someone, softly. 
 
 " Exactly," affirmed Casswade, ** the kidd^^, as 
 the legal fellers put it. One lot supports the other 
 and pays every time. And it rests with you which 
 you're goin' to belong to. Look at me ! Never 
 had a day's schoolin' in my life, and never 
 believed in no man till I'd got his money and 
 his stamped agreement. And look at some o' 
 you ! — go and get married on twenty-five bob a 
 week, tie yourselves right up in a knot, and then 
 come howlin' for pensions and free beer." 
 
 " I dunno," said the other, obstinately, realizing 
 that there was to be no free beer here, at all 
 events. ** You've happened to touch lucky ; that's 
 all. Others have bad luck " 
 
 ** Bad luck be blowed. You dunno what you're 
 talkin' about. Any bis'ness or tradin' concern 
 busts up if it don't build up a reserve fund, don't 
 it? Same with any man, you idiot. And you 
 dan't put by a reserve if you have to live right 
 bang up to your income, can you ? And you ought 
 to be pole-axed for doin' it, 'cause you come on 
 the rates and taxes. You wouldn't come no pro- 
 digal son caper on me, any of you, if I had the 
 handlin' o' the Exchequer. I'd teach 'em, if 
 they ate all their bloomin' pie in one day, they 
 could go short the next." 
 
 ** But hold hard ! Figures prove " 
 
 ** Figures don't," he snarled. '* There's the 
 man hisself ; and I says to him, I says : ' What 
 
LOW SOCIETY 87 
 
 d*you mean by goin' and havin' more wives and 
 kids than you could afford to keep if you was out 
 of work or on your back in bed, as you might be 
 any day?' And he says : 'Bad luck, guv'nor.' 
 
 * No,' I says ; * damned bad management and 
 selfish bloomin' ignorance ; and I ain't goin' to 
 pay for it.' Figures ! They don't prove nothin', 
 and never did. Why, there was a bloomin' upstart 
 nephew o' mine went and got full up with mathe- 
 mistics, or whatever you call 'em. I downed him 
 in one go. * Accordin' to you, you ass,' I says, 
 
 * if my ten men can run up a house in six weeks, 
 forty thousand men can run it up in ten seconds 
 b' the clock.' ' Certainly,' he says, * if the figures 
 prove it.' * Right you are,' I says. ' Here's fifty 
 golden quids to a ha'penny they can't, and never 
 did, and never will.* And I've never set eyes 
 on him again ; and don't want to. G'night 
 all." 
 
 He went truculently out. 
 
 ** It wouldn't surprise me in the least to hear 
 Mr. Casswade was in love," said the bar -lady 
 thoughtfully, as she looked in his tankard. " The 
 back of his neck was that red ! " 
 
 So or not, Mr. Casswade turned the key in his 
 door considerably earlier than usual. Miss Pugh 
 hastily threw off the old-maidish shawl she had 
 around her shoulders, and ran forward from the 
 kitchen to diagnose the signs. 
 
 ** Here's your slippers, all nice and warm," she 
 said, looking at his boots as if she wished she 
 could unlace them for him. "It's turned quite 
 chilly." 
 
 He grunted. He hadn't noticed anything of the 
 
88 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 kind, he said. She'd got no real blood in her. 
 ** Anyone been? " 
 
 ** Oh, yes ! " Miss Pugh started almost guiltily. 
 She had tied a piece of cotton around her finger 
 to remind her, and then forgotten the cotton. 
 ** Just before eight o'clock — I took the time. A 
 gentleman called, to see you about one of the 
 houses he thought of buying." 
 
 Cass wade glared into space. " Just my luck," 
 he said. "Ever see anythin' like it? Didn't he 
 leave any card? " 
 
 "No. I don't fancy he uses them, by the 
 manner of him. He said that he v^anted to know 
 particularly about the drains and the ten -pound 
 deposit. In fact, he seemed very business-like 
 and emphatic about it." 
 
 ** Course he was ! Why couldn't you make 
 some excuse to keep him — talk nicely to him — or 
 somethin' o' that?" he demanded, impulsively. 
 " What's the use o' you bein' here at all? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Casswade ! " She hung her head, 
 her hands moving over each other. " How could 
 I, all alone here ? — and not knowing whether — 
 whether you would feel like talking about drains 
 at that time of night ? Besides, he had a young 
 person with him, waiting at the gate. And — oh, 
 whatever am I thinking of? — he gave his name. 
 Hungerford ! " 
 
 " Hungerford ? " Mr. Casswade, down on one 
 knee to see to his boots, breathed unusually hard, 
 '* Hungerford? " 
 
 " Yes 1 Can't you — let me see if I can " 
 
 ** Get away," he growled. Behind his sudden 
 misgiving as to a deal about to be cancelled. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 89 
 
 dawned a vague glimmer of suspicion. ** What 
 did he look like?" he asked, shakily. *' You 
 must know that." 
 
 ** Well, he was rather short and slight and 
 ordinary looking, with a bowler hat and no mous- 
 tache worth the name — and freckled," Miss Pugh 
 said, ticking off the items earnestly on her fingers. 
 " And the person at the gate was biggish and 
 florid — too stout in the bust to be a lady — with 
 a large straw hat on the back of her head ; and 
 she kept pulling a handkerchief about in her 
 hands. I heard her giggle as they walked 
 off " 
 
 Mr. Casswade bounced upright precipitately, 
 banged the front -parlour door open, went in, and 
 banged it behind him. Her blood running cold. 
 Miss Pugh stood and listened to an unbottling of 
 wrath as unbridled and ungodly as it was un- 
 intelligible. Striding up and down in the dark, 
 Mr. Casswade bumped against the furniture, 
 kicked it ferociously out of his way, and turned 
 to kick it again and again in sheer spite. It 
 lasted fully three minutes ; and no bull let loose 
 in the room could have accomplished in the time 
 more splintering and rending and crashing than 
 the sounds indicated. 
 
 As Mr. Casswade emerged, mopping his face, 
 someone knocked anxiously at the front door. 
 He flung it open. 
 
 ** Whatever *s the matter?" It was the next- 
 door neighbour, with an apron over her head, and 
 looking pale and indignant as she strove to peer 
 past him. " It*s beyond bearing. I made sure 
 you had forgotten yourself and were knocking 
 somebody about." 
 
90 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** You did? You go home and pat your own 
 butter/* roared Casswade, ** or it'll come true. 
 Any thin' more to say?" 
 
 " Only that you ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self, Mr. Casswade. I'll go as I choose, and 
 when I choose. I pity that poor Miss Pugh." 
 
 "You do, do you? Hi ! " Casswade turned 
 and directed his roar into the kitchen. ** Come 
 and show yourself. D'you hear?" And Miss 
 Pugh advanced in trepidation, trying to smile 
 apologetically at the person from next door. 
 " Now, then, tell this interferin' old hussy to clear 
 out. Go on I " 
 
 ** Clear out," gasped Miss Pugh, falteringly. 
 
 ** Agin ! She can't hear that. Rub it right 
 into her 1 " 
 
 ** Clear out," repeated Miss Pugh, in a forced 
 shriek. And Mr. Casswade slammed the door. 
 ** I'll show 'em," he muttered, as Miss Pugh made 
 an unsteady rush for the staircase and her room. 
 ** And as for you," he breathed, straining out his 
 hands to clutch an imaginary George Baversham, 
 ** when I've done with you, there won't be a bone 
 in you worth marryin'." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ** Isn't it all strange — and wonderful — and 
 beautiful I " Ella's voice came hushed and far- 
 away from the pillow -depths in which her brown 
 little head was sunk. 
 
 ** Yes, dear," Jim Hungerfdrd answered, with 
 man's brevity, from the depths of his own. ** It 
 ought to be." 
 
 She gave a quivering little sigh. Presently 
 she slid her hand over the coverlet to find his, 
 and hold it tightly. It was a woman's way — 
 Ella's way — of asking whether God, having given 
 her such happiness, could ever mean to take it 
 away. 
 
 This morning sun, streaming into their room 
 at the new villa, had awakened them. It was 
 such warm, golden, greeting radiance that it had 
 held them both silent under its spell for a time. 
 Ella lay and watched her curtains — her own — and 
 thought how ethereally they stirred in the breeze 
 from the open window, and how nice they must 
 look from the outside. Jim, as content as any man 
 could ever wish to be on this earth, lay and thought 
 sleepily of his breakfast and his future j)lans. 
 The little clock on the mantel -shelf ticked away 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Why, it's Saturday," Ella's reflective whisper 
 came again, presently. ** We have been married 
 
92 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 a week. A whole week, Boy I Can you believe 
 it ? " She always called him her ** boy," perhaps 
 because she knew him to be as strong, as silent, as 
 manly a man as any woman had ever led by 
 sweetness. 
 
 '* Yes, a week," he said. He had been mentally 
 counting up the bundles of wood his unpractised 
 hands had used in kindling the fire. Unsuspected 
 domestic talents had been discovered in him. " I 
 really think," he added, ** I ought to begin turning 
 up the garden and getting in some seeds of some 
 sort before the frosts come on. Eh, dear? " 
 
 ** But isn't it too late? " Ella queried, wonder- 
 ingly. ** Nothing grows in winter, does it ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," he reminded her, confidently. 
 ** Cabbages and things. At least, you buy them in 
 winter ; so they come from somewhere." 
 
 ** I rather think, Boy," Ella said, after 
 considerable reflection, " they plant them in 
 Spring. I feel sure of it. Whatever will you 
 do?" 
 
 " Experiment," he said, bravely. '* If they 
 don*t come up — but they will. I fancy they must, 
 in this new soil. You heard what Casswade said. 
 Hungry, dear? I am." 
 
 He kissed the little brown head, and sprang out 
 of bed. Ten minutes later the sound of his quiet 
 whistling and the scent of coffee came up to her. 
 ** Bless him ! " she whispered to herself. Then 
 she put up both hands to her face and seemed 
 to be praying silently for him or for herself. 
 Tears were drying upon smiles as she began to 
 dress. She remembered that each morning he 
 had improved by about five minutes in the matter 
 
LOW SOCIETY 93 
 
 of preparing breakfast. He took a delight in the 
 performance. Till now, as Ella was always trying 
 to put out of her memory, he had had no glimpse 
 of the inner working of the domestic machine. 
 Paid servants had been at his beck and call ; 
 and a lordly, imperious woman had held it to be 
 utterly derogatory in a *' gentleman " to soil his 
 hands. But this was something to be mutually 
 forgotten. From last Saturday the new life had 
 begun. 
 
 Breakfast was laid in the rear apartment below 
 which, in Casswade's plan, was marked ** dining- 
 room," and which, for size, undeniably conformed 
 to his description as "bijou." Jim had a large white 
 shell -pattern cup, and Ella a similar small one, the 
 two comprising, with a pair of plates to match, 
 what Ella proudly called her coffee -service. With 
 the glass doors swung wide, the Essex mist quite 
 lifted, the birds singing at their loudest, and the 
 sun shining over all, the little villa undoubtedly 
 seemed value for money. They sipped their coffee, 
 and ate their toast, with now and then a quiet word, 
 and now and then a little smile from Jim when 
 Ella put out her hand to touch him, as if to make 
 sure he was really there. Then Jim lit his briar, 
 sat back, and looked critically along the grass - 
 coated garden-beds, with an eye to their growing 
 capacity ; while Ella glanced around at the deli- 
 cate honeysuckle design of the wall-paper. 
 
 ** Oh, look ! " she cried suddenly, her hands 
 coming together. *' A patch of white — the lovely 
 pattern is all gone. And there — and there ! Jim I " 
 She rose in dismay. '* My honeysuckle I " 
 
 ** It's all right," he said, soothingly. '* It will 
 
94 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 come again, I expect. That's nothing serious." 
 He looked a little higher still, and saw a ziz-zag 
 fissure in the ceiling-plaster that had not seemed 
 noticeable yesterday. He looked discreetly away 
 again, and smoked hard. ** I should take Cass- 
 wade's word for it that the house is perfectly 
 dry," he urged. '* Casswade's blufif, but he's a 
 good sort, I shall always think." 
 
 Ella stood a minute gazing at him, and then 
 walked across to a book -case in the corner. She 
 took down a bound book of " poets " that had 
 been placed against the wall within — and then 
 another — and held them mutely out for him to 
 see. They were dotted with thick green spots. 
 Her lip quivered. While she tried to smile, the 
 rush of tears came. Hungerford knew by now 
 what a tangle of sensitive fibres made up his 
 Ella's body and being. He simply smoothed her 
 forehead, kissed her, and went on looking at the 
 garden. 
 
 ** Yes, a mock-orange-blossom bush would look 
 really well just there," he said, pointing. " Just 
 there at the corner — we must have one." 
 
 "Would it?" She came to his shoulder, to 
 see, her voice resolutely steadying. " To remind 
 us always — yes I Would it be very expensive, 
 dear? — that and the other things you mean to 
 buy?" 
 
 ** Oh, no 1 An outlay of a sovereign, I should 
 think — " He checked himself. It was surpris- 
 ing how the value of a sovereign seemed to have 
 increased just lately. " Come and look at the 
 front room," he suggested, as a distraction. 
 
 They went in. The same disturbing blank 
 
LOW SOCIETY 95 
 
 patches were visible on the walls here — just as if 
 an enemy had been stealthily at work in the 
 night . 
 
 ** H*m," Jim said. ** I'll mention it to Cass- 
 wade. After all, it may be only a trifle, due to 
 the atmosphere." He looked through the cur- 
 tains towards Cass wade's portable " office " at 
 the street -end. It was apparently still closed ; 
 Casswade had never claimed to be an early riser. 
 ** I have never caught a glimpse of Casswade's 
 wife yet," occurred to him, incidentally. '* Have 
 you, dear? " 
 
 ** Why, no, I haven't," Ella said, surprised her- 
 self. ** I wonder if she is nice." 
 
 ** I wonder," Jim repeated, with a laugh. 
 " Bother the walls I Come out into the sunshine, 
 dear I — we shall not have much more of it. Come 
 along, my honeymoon girl." 
 
 He wanted her to be quite happy and oblivious 
 of secret inner misgivings that existed. Putting 
 his arm round her, he drew her along as far as 
 the swing doors. There the arm dropped. It 
 meant that both, without being shy, felt a certain 
 constraint in the stark openness of the treeless 
 rear regions. In the interval of three weeks 
 Casswade had reluctantly parted with three more 
 of his houses, two out of the three being already 
 occupied ; so that there were lingering, curious 
 glances now from both left and right at the dark, 
 silent young man and his elfin little woman. The 
 gardens being long and narrow, and the dividing 
 fences extremely low, the sense of standing out 
 high and dry as a target for inspection from all 
 the windows had not yet worn off. In Hungerford 
 
96 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 it induced an unconscious attitude of grave aloof- 
 ness ; in Ella, just as unconsciously, it evoked a 
 delicious assumption of womanly dignity and pride 
 of wifehood. The neighbours had already begun 
 to ask one another whether the man had any 
 settled employment, what the interior of their 
 home might be like, and whether they would 
 fetch their own shopping or have it delivered 
 with refinement at the door. As Jim and his Ella 
 only went out very quietly after dusk, the neigh- 
 bours were so far somewhat baffled. But it was 
 only reasonable to expect that they would at once 
 adapt themselves to the atmosphere — miscalled by 
 some practical people snobbery — which stamps and 
 elevates the average street of new, convenient 
 villas anywhere. 
 
 ** By this time next year," Jim was saying in a 
 low voice, ** we shall have grown some clematis 
 high upon a trellis on both sides." 
 
 " Do you think they will like it ? " Ella whis- 
 pered, as she pictured a cloistered seclusion. 
 
 ** Like it? I shall not consult them," he said, 
 his back, or his sense of proprietorship, " up " at 
 once. " Leave that to me, Ella. And here," he 
 went on, indicating the centre of the pathway, 
 " I thought of having a bower put up, with crimson 
 ramblers trailing. On each side of that, again, 
 where the sun strikes so fully all day, I might 
 put down a cucumber frame, so that if one failed 
 for any reason the other would succeed. And 
 there — and there — I shall plant the fruit-trees. 
 I got a gardening -book for two shillings which 
 tells everything." 
 
 He had a brand-new, business-like garden -fork 
 
LOW SOCIETY 97 
 
 over his shoulder : it being curious, but true, that 
 whereas the professional gardener invariably uses 
 a spade for elementary work, the amateur or 
 suburban delver as invariably relies upon the 
 pronged implement. 
 
 ** Yes, dear ; but," Ella put in suddenly, after 
 thinking, "have you forgotten? How — I mean, 
 where — should I dry the linen — the washing — in 
 that case? " 
 
 " Washing? " he repeated. " What washing? 
 No wife of mine will do any washing of clothes. 
 Did you think " 
 
 Indoors, she would have put a hand over his 
 lips ; out here, she had to be content with pressing 
 his arm to check the outburst . 
 
 *' All right, dear, we won't talk of that now. 
 Cucumbers and ramblers 1 Won't it look beauti- 
 ful ? — except that I never eat cucumbers — they 
 make me ill." 
 
 ** You don't ? " He stared gravely. ** Neither 
 do I. That settles the cucumber -frames, then. 
 What shall we grow? I wonder whether Cass- 
 wade would put us up a greenhouse — for grapes ? 
 You like grapes, I know." 
 
 " Boy, I think you must come away from the 
 garden," Ella said presently, with her simul- 
 taneous smile and lip -quiver. '* Yes, dear, we 
 must come to that — we must talk of it — how we 
 are going to grow our bread-and-butter. We 
 mustn't be like two children wandering in a day- 
 dream any longer. I'm going to be very practical 
 now, and think hard, and help you. For soon. 
 Boy, long before we expect him, the tax-collector 
 will be knocking at the door. And you are to be 
 
 L.S. H 
 
98 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 the bread-winner, and you have never yet known 
 what that means — as I have. You're not angry ! " 
 
 Angry ? — No ! But two people in love are 
 one only in fond theory ; and Ella had set herself 
 to feel the pulse of his moods gently on all occa- 
 sions, knowing wisely that the best of men are 
 only the best in the hands of a woman who can 
 lead and never drive. 
 
 " I'll leave you to dig a little," she said, 
 ** while I sweep away and prepare dinner. After 
 that — after that we will talk, and plan out what 
 is to be done. Now, work away I " 
 
 She ran gaily indoors. Jim selected his spot, 
 and stuck the fork manfully into it, turning up 
 with those delicate white hands in a few minutes 
 an astonishing amount of varied matter, including 
 virgin soil. From time to time Ella paused to 
 watch his strenuous career, with a little inward 
 smile. Every small action and detail, trifling 
 to the neighbours, was vital and important to her, 
 because it formed a link in the chain of the new 
 life — their life together. 
 
 Pretty soon his shadow darkened the " dining- 
 room " doorway. He had only come for his pipe, 
 he explained ; but he stayed, admitting presently 
 that the ground was harder than he had thought, 
 and that the digging of it all might conceivably be 
 a labour of days. He would not go as far as to 
 say that hi3 back ached in the least. 
 
 " And, of course, dear," Ella took her oppor- 
 tunity to remind him soothingly, " if you dig all 
 that grass and weed in, it will most likely come 
 up again and spoil your crops — our crops." 
 
 " Isn't there such a thing sold as a weed 
 
LOW SOCIETY 99 
 
 killer?" he reflected, smoking a trifle gloomily 
 over the prospect. " I think there must be." 
 
 ** Yes ; but — the money — the money — the 
 money, Boy I " she whispered in his ear, darting 
 away. 
 
 Some time after noon, when the veering sun 
 had thrown a cool shadow-line across the swing- 
 doors, and the dinner -cloth was cleared away, 
 they sat down determinedly for the talk upon ways 
 and means. He would have taken her upon his 
 knee, with his arm around her ; but she was true 
 to her practical intentions, and sharpened a pencil 
 and prepared a sheet of paper with great care, 
 and sat apart. Whenever she wanted to spring up 
 and kiss his pale, intent face, she turned to this 
 paper and wrote some cryptic symbol. She had to 
 know that, although he would lay down his life 
 for her unhesitatingly, it was true that he had 
 never been called upon to work for his own 
 support until now. 
 
 *' What," she began, to test his ideas, " do you 
 think is the smallest amount I can keep house 
 upon? Try and think." 
 
 Jim thought and thought . The little dark curls 
 over his forehead contracted again and again, but 
 each mental estimate varied so considerably that 
 he hesitated to declare them. It had been suffi- 
 cient for him so far to realize that, in her hands, 
 not a penny of his prospective income would ever 
 be wasted. 
 
 ** You make a rough guess, dear," he said, at 
 length ; " and I'll see whether it tallies with 
 mine." 
 
 *' There it is," Ella replied, producing a 
 
 H 2 
 
loo LOW SOCIETY 
 
 document she had secretly and conscientiously 
 prepared. 
 
 Much impressed, Jim inspected it. While visibly 
 astounded at the number of small items included 
 as essential, he pronounced the whole a work of 
 art. " Only," he added, critically, " you have 
 allowed no margin at all for your dress and such 
 things." 
 
 *' There won't be any, dear," she said, smiling 
 and looking away. *' Not yet, at any rate. That 
 comes under the heading of ' Contrivance.' But 
 you don't understand that yet. Now — " she 
 became very serious, and leaned toward him — " I 
 know what has been in your mind all along, and I 
 honour you for it ; but I want to say here and now 
 that I am not going to allow it as long as an 
 alternative is left." 
 
 ** Go on," he whispered. 
 
 ** You were going to be too brave. I know 1 
 You were going to efface yourself, go boldly 
 among your father's City friends, and ask a berth 
 in one or other of their offices . You w6uld get it ; 
 but the position, after what has been, would be too 
 humiliating — too much to ask of you even for love. 
 I don't ask it, Jim ! " She rose, and laid her hand 
 on his drooped head. " You have given up that 
 circle — that life — for love of me — because it was 
 either that or . . . There, no more — no more of 
 that ! You will get the newspaper, dear, and 
 answer an ordinary advertisement. If that fails, 
 and others fail, then we will think again. Only 
 when the worst has come to the worst shall you 
 look in that direction. See how I love you. Boy ! 
 I would spare you anything ; I ask nothing more in 
 
LOW SOCIETY TOT 
 
 life than to keep our little home together, no 
 matter how I contrive, so long as you want me and 
 love me. . . . Now, we have not yet thought of 
 coals, laundry, gas, house-repairs — oh, and ever so 
 many thing^s.*' 
 
 ** My word I " Jim slowly put down his pipe. 
 It seemed as if in very fairness and sheer necessity 
 he must give up tobacco on the spot. He looked 
 at his wife as if she were a financial genius — as, 
 indeed, the contriving wife must often be. And 
 Ella's filmed eyes danced with the pleasure that is 
 akin to pain. There was an ordeal to be faced, 
 and it rested upon her to carry him through it 
 without flinching or failure. 
 
 It lasted until the early dusk had crept across 
 the room. Hungerford rose in the silence to 
 light the gas. If he was dazed, he had a new 
 admiration for his elfin brown girl that was not 
 likely to fade. He had realized in those hours all 
 the wonderful resources of a woman's mind when 
 brought to bear upon the problem. Secretly he 
 marvelled, and felt somehow ashamed of the mere 
 physical strength which was supposed to make 
 him the superior partner. 
 
 ** Wait a moment," Ella said, a little breath- 
 lessly, catching at his arm. She lifted herself 
 on tiptoe, to look beyond the dark depths of their 
 garden -strip. Her voice went down. " There 
 he is," she whispered. " Every night — and again 
 to-night. There he is." 
 
 They stood still together, watching, ringed 
 about by the endless world, but forgetting it all 
 for a time — all but the patch of open ground 
 beyond their rear fence. It was the site of the 
 
102 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 new block, upon which Casswade had thrown down 
 his hasty length of pavement, marked out the 
 plots, cemented the foundations, and commenced 
 to run up more brick house -walls. 
 
 Out there the inevitable thin mist had already 
 begun to crawl up as from nowhere. It was just 
 pierced at intervals by pale suggestions of light 
 reflected from the electric street-lamps. And 
 through this silent nebulosity, from square of 
 masonry to square of masonry and back again, 
 moved the figure of a man. 
 
 Nothing in his shape or his movements sug- 
 gested conscious stealth — only a sort of mental 
 detachment from the rest of his fellow -creatures, 
 and an air of doing something essential which 
 might not be for anyone else to understand. 
 
 Sometimes he stooped, picked up something, 
 and seemed to lay it carefully on a spot selected 
 for accumulation of trifles. Then he would dis- 
 appear behind a low wall, to reappear again with 
 an air of having achieved a purpose. The sound 
 of his footfalls was not audible : seen more than 
 once at his occupation, as Hungerford and his Ella 
 had seen him, he appeared to grow into the land- 
 scape — to become the spirit -concrete of the new 
 building-stretch after dusk. Now he tested a 
 scaffold-pole carefully. Now he tapped at a por- 
 tion of a wall, stepping back to survey it narrowly 
 from all points — having at such moments the 
 appearance of conscientious responsibility — a 
 master -man come to examine results after the 
 workers had gone. To and fro he went, examin- 
 ing the very bricks . Then he went busily to work 
 again upon the odds and ends littering the trodden 
 
LOW SOCIETY 103 
 
 sward around — he was ** tidying up,'* as a house- 
 maid tidies a room after a party. The very 
 steady semblance of purpose in his purposeless 
 movements breathed an indescribable fascination — 
 to Hungerford and his Ella, at least, who had 
 built up their nightly glimpses of the man at his 
 work into one whole to which they would give no 
 name. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Eight o'clock on a Saturday night marks as 
 nearly as possible the high tide of human activity 
 and booming sound in Barking Old Town. And 
 it was about this time that the new tenants at 
 No. Nine, Mandalay Gardens, went quietly from 
 the house and turned in that direction. 
 
 Some of the neighbours saw them start, and 
 peered from behind blinds for some evidence of 
 the shopping -bag which would brand them as 
 being in hopelessly straitened circumstances. 
 But beyond the fact that the tall, dark and silent 
 young man wore a cloth cap instead of a hat — in 
 itself a flippant, cheap and slovenly modern habit 
 — there was nothing upon which legitimate curi- 
 osity had a fair chance to feed. The lady at 
 No. Eleven resolved to watch and see if the front 
 steps were surreptitiously cleaned down about mid- 
 night, and whether the man slid out to some 
 questionable night employment at about the same 
 hour. Fugitive habits in any suburban household 
 engender suspicion as a matter of course. 
 
 It was Jim who had suggested a stroll into the 
 heart of the hubbub. Hitherto their nightly walks 
 together had taken them quite away from it to 
 saunter in silent happiness along the semi -rural 
 lanes that make Barking Town something of a 
 surprise to pedestrians who emerge suddenly from 
 obscurity upon its blaze of lights and roar of 
 
LOW SOCIETY 105 
 
 traffic. But the day's momentous debate, he 
 thought, had made an enlivening variant desirable. 
 This meant that there was a look in Ella*s eyes 
 suggestive of nerve -tension. 
 
 Following the track of the electric cars for 
 something like a mile, they found themselves 
 absorbed by the marketing maelstrom. This was 
 an environment comparatively novel for Hunger - 
 ford, if not for his Ella. The sharp contrasts awed 
 and held him ; the sights and sounds amused 
 him no less deeply. He named the place '* Little 
 Babylon " at once. Every few minutes seemed to 
 provide material for a new and entire spectacular 
 drama. There was a vast abundance of gaiety and 
 cheap food, but it was reared against a dark back- 
 ground of poverty across which flitted the shapes 
 of wan, fierce women, brooding men, and bare- 
 footed children who had yet to hear of elemental 
 decency. And over all was the ceaseless strident 
 noise which sounded at a distance like the sus- 
 tained roar from a great smith's forge. The devil 
 can pick and choose at leisure from the hindmost 
 in Barking Town. 
 
 The fair at the far side of the triangle was in 
 full swing, the hoarse announcements of its pro- 
 moters backed up by untiring strains from a steam 
 barrel-organ. Flanking the kerb in front of the 
 fair was the long line of naphtha-lit stalls, behind 
 which were philanthropic men who prepared and 
 sold at a sacrifice pills designed to arrest any 
 human disease — others who skinned wild rabbits 
 with a celerity fascinating to watch — and others 
 who had shipping orders from the " King of 
 Egypt " for yet more of their imperishable 
 
io6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 linoleum at one shilling per odd piece. The 
 crowd, with its mixed odours, pressed and jostled. 
 Sometimes Jim Hungerford shivered a little and 
 drew Ella away from its contact ; sometimes he 
 had vague suspicions that the hands in his pockets 
 were not his own. But, on the whole, he enjoyed 
 it. And, throughout, there was the impassioned 
 singing and rejoicing of the Salvation Army in 
 the centre to prove that the saving of Barking 
 Town souls still rested on a basis of hope. 
 
 ** There's Mr. Casswade," Jim said, suddenly. 
 ** At least, I think so." 
 
 "Where? Oh, tell him— tell him about the 
 wall-paper fading away," implored Ella. " Where 
 is he?" 
 
 Passing figures had come between. But Mr. 
 Casswade was not easily obliterated, even in such 
 a crowd. Presently Jim caught sight again of 
 the protuberant shape moving along with a rich, 
 deliberate roll, and with hat and cigar at a satis- 
 fied angle. Casswade it was. They pressed 
 forward. 
 
 ** Hullo," said Mr. Casswade, loudly and 
 heartily. ** Who'd ha' thought o' meetin* Mr. 
 and Mrs. Hungerford? Why, I ain't seen anythin' 
 o' you for a week. How do? I was only sayin' 
 to Josh — that's my man — ' They ain't got a string 
 o* complaints to make about their house.' Well, 
 I never I " 
 
 " As it happens, we have one for you," Hunger- 
 ford said, with his quiet smile. 
 
 '* Oh I " He looked astounded — if not wounded. 
 " It's the first I've ever had about them houses. 
 What might it be? " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 107 
 
 ** You tell him, Ella," Jim said. '* You under- 
 stand it better than I." 
 
 And Ella breathlessly poured out her tale, Cass- 
 wade staring with the air of a man who had never 
 heard the like before. At the end, he put his head 
 on one side, extended his hand, and regarded her 
 sceptically. 
 
 ** Jest so. You don't mean to say, my dear 
 lady, that you really think youVe got somethin' 
 to pick at in that? " 
 
 ** I do," she averred, taken aback. ** Don't 
 you ? What if it should spread all over the 
 house? " 
 
 ** Let it." He pointed the cigar at her solemnly. 
 " Whatever you do, don't attempt to stop it. 
 You're in luck, you two. Ask anyone that knows. 
 It don't happen like that once in fifty times with 
 the best builder. You've pleased me." 
 
 ** Have I? " asked Ella, reduced to a whisper. 
 
 ** Have you ? Why, can't you see ? If that stray 
 touch o' damp left hadn't come out, it would ha' 
 remained in. And you're buyin' the house to 
 live in for ninety -nine years. You'll be there when 
 I'm dead and gone — if not forgotten." 
 
 Nothing had ever sounded more pregnant and 
 conclusive. Ella stared at space, Hungerford tried 
 hard to look as if he only now grasped the funda- 
 mental principle of the building art. 
 
 ** It's like this, Mr. Hungerford," Casswade 
 went on, clearly upset by the mere suspicion. ** If 
 you don't feel satisfied, you're at liberty to sell the 
 house again to-morrow at your own figure, ain't 
 you ? I shan't stand in your way. I wouldn't. I've 
 got my reputation from end to end o' Barkin' to 
 
io8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 keep up at all costs. There's many little things you 
 don't expect to understand about a house all at 
 once — not even in a week. Would you believe it, 
 people have come to me before now and asked 
 about a crack in a ceilin'. I'm tellin' you the 
 truth. In a new ceilin', mind you ! I can't get 
 angry. I can on'y say to 'em : ' There's on'y two 
 things in the world that don't crack, and that's 
 cast steel and a good character.' Why — " his 
 eyes bulged almost tearfully — " I've got a 
 sovereign in my pocket now with a crack in it. 
 Am I grumblin' at the Mint ? Good lor', sir, no I 
 What with the surveyors, the price o* buildin' 
 material, the arrangin' gratis of contracts for 
 people, and then their worry over cracks, it takes a 
 modern builder all his time to keep out o' the mad- 
 house. It does, Mr. Hungerford ! Look at me, 
 now. You might be thinkin' me a bloated mil- 
 lionaire. But it's all out in bricks an' mortar and 
 one thing and another, and it ain't so easy to get a 
 bit in when you want it. I don't mind tellin' you 
 and Mrs . Hungerford here, as friends, that although 
 I've got all them houses and hope to have many 
 more, I'm pushed over and over again to lay my 
 hands on twenty pounds cash to go on with. B'lieve 
 me?" 
 
 *' I can," Hungerford said, with warmth. He 
 had swallowed a throat -lump, remembering his 
 own spontaneous loan at a nominal five per cent. 
 "I'm only sorry if you think that I " 
 
 ** Not at all. Not at all, my boy." He allowed 
 himself to melt, as his hand was wrung. ** I 
 liked you from the first, as you liked me. I'd say, 
 come and have a long drink, both of you — on'y I 
 
LOW SOCIETY 109 
 
 know you wouldn't. But when it comes to dealin' 
 with some o' these tuppenny-ha'penny swells " 
 
 " Evenin', Mr. Casswade. How's bis'ness by 
 now?" 
 
 The voice, comfortably familiar, came from 
 behind him, but he did not turn. His face took on 
 an odd mottled tinge ; his eye was fixed. With a 
 sudden incoherent gurgle, suggestive of strangula- 
 tion, he threw out his arms, forged a way through 
 the crowd, and was gone. 
 
 " Go after him," breathed Ella, clutching at 
 Jim anxiously. " But he's ill, dear — I saw it in 
 his face. Go after him I " 
 
 "Friend o' yours, sir?" enquired the voice. 
 And Hungerford spun round. 
 
 " That gentleman? " He thought he had never 
 known such a free-and-easy place as Barking 
 Town on Saturday evening. " Well, yes, he is. 
 Do you know him? " 
 
 " Casswade? Rather. It was me who spoke to 
 him jest then." 
 
 " So« I thought," Hungerford said, staring back- 
 ward again in bewilderment. "I'm afraid there's 
 something amiss with him." 
 
 "It did look like it, didn't it?" agreed the 
 other, reflectively. He was rather short, with a 
 freckled and determined but pleasant face, a bowler 
 hat, and an easy style. Linked to his arm was a 
 florid, robust young woman who seemed to see 
 something unmentionably funny in the pavement 
 at her feet. " Yes, I jest happened to catch sight 
 of his back. And I'd been wantin' to see him 
 rather particularly about takin' a house. It'll be 
 too late on Monday." 
 
no LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " I see. What a pity — I know he has several 
 on hand. I have his private address, if that is of 
 any use to you." 
 
 *' Oh, I know his private address, sir, thank 
 you ; and he knows mine. Can't quite understand 
 him greasin' off in that way, though." 
 
 Ella had not spoken. Her wide blue eyes were 
 held by the extraordinary young person who saw 
 something in the kerb -line to provoke spasms of 
 soundless laughter that shook her corsage. 
 
 ** Half a moment, sir," said the young man 
 abruptly, plucking at Hungerford's arm. ** You'll 
 get trod on." 
 
 A public-house door close by had swung out- 
 ward. There was a chaotic sound of scuffling, 
 and then something was thrust out by several 
 arms from the doorway. It went down with a 
 crash. For a moment, as it lay bunched, it looked 
 more like an animal than a man. But it was the 
 latter — a man with enormous shoulders and the 
 face of a white negro. 
 
 ** Bogie ! " yelled someone. And the crowd 
 went back to form a ring at a respectful dis- 
 tance which still had a thrilling element of 
 uncertainty. 
 
 Bogie picked himself up, yawned horribly, shook 
 his head as if trained to fight with his teeth, stag- 
 gered about a little on unsafe legs, and then made 
 with precision at the crowd, striking out right and 
 left. One of his drives reached a child, and she 
 ran away screaming ; but it took more than such 
 a small mistake, on Saturday evening, to sober Mr. 
 Lawrence. With head lowered, he charged down 
 the street, followed by a shouting procession. His 
 
LOW SOCIETY III 
 
 career was infinitely more diverting and promising 
 than that of a fire-engine. 
 
 '* And that's drink," Ella whispered. She had 
 gone unnecessarily white. " Can't they — can't 
 they do anything to check it ? " 
 
 " Well, no, ma'am," volunteered Baversham, 
 lighting a cigarette. " Least, they could, but 
 they ain't likely to ; 'cause it brings in jest about 
 one-third o' the country's revenue, you see. And 
 there you are." 
 
 " But— but — " she dared, indignantly, " isn't it 
 vile and wicked to rely upon such a traffic for 
 gain? " 
 
 *' Well, yes, ma'am — in the publican it is," he 
 said, puffing placidly ; " but not in a Govern- 
 ment. That's how it stands. He's all right ; 
 he'll have another quiet Sunday in the cells." 
 
 ** I think we'll be going," said Ella, after the 
 pause for recovery. And, with a " Good-night ! " 
 she and Jim passed on. 
 
 ** What a strange young woman," was all 
 Hungerford permitted himself to remark. 
 
 ** Very," said Ella, her lips setting. " I think 
 there is something that we do not quite under- 
 stand." 
 
 There was. At least, this impression was 
 strengthened when, of a sudden, Mr. Casswade 
 reappeared as from nowhere in their path. He 
 was husky, and looked so furtive and flushed 
 that for a moment Ella suspected the ubiquitous 
 drink demon again. 
 
 ** Here you are," he said, wiping his forehead. 
 ** You'll excuse me hurryin' away like that ; but, 
 as it happens, that was a party I like to avoid — 
 
112 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 in fact, a party that I wouldn't be found dead 
 with ; and that's the bare truth." 
 
 ** Really ? " said Hungerford. " Why, we under- 
 stood him to say that he was a friend of yours." 
 
 ** He did? " Casswade appeared a trifle stag- 
 gered. " Well, so he is, in a way o' speakin', 
 but only in a way — you understand what I mean. 
 I thought I'd explain, in case you didn't. If it's 
 not a rude question, Mr. Hungerford, I might like 
 to know what else he had to say about me ? " 
 
 Hungerford, with a delicate intuition, reflected. 
 " Merely, I think, that he had wanted to see you 
 before Monday about a house. But he has your 
 private address, so that's all right." 
 
 ** Ah I — yes, that's all right," said Casswade, 
 drawing a careful breath. Ella thought that she 
 had never seen such a succession of quaint tints in 
 a gentleman's face before. " Yes, I expect he'll 
 call. I'd better hurry back. G'night, sir — g'night, 
 ma'am I " 
 
 ** There seems something peculiar in the air 
 to-night," Hungerford laughed, as they went on 
 again . 
 
 ** There does, dear," Ella said, absently. Pre- 
 sently she pressed his arm tightly, with a small 
 sob. " Oh, I'm so grateful you're different from 
 all other men. Boy ! " shie whispered. " What 
 is this — another crowd? I wouldn't stop, dear." 
 
 " Just a minute," he urged. " This seems 
 different. Listen ! " 
 
 It was a cheap entertainment, indeed, to those 
 who were well-fed and well -clad. The piece 
 of unoccupied ground at the apex of the 
 triangle provided space for a large audience. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 113 
 
 and the little dried-up Socialistic, Saturday- 
 night orator had risen fervidly to the occasion 
 once more. The fact of his platform being in the 
 centre was no real drawback ; he had brought his 
 marionette -like movements to such perfection that 
 those in front might depend upon catching the 
 first half of every sentence, and those behind the 
 last. If his respect for law and authority appeared 
 at all scanty to the casual listener, it was reas- 
 suring and significant that the police did not 
 seem disposed to interfere. 
 
 ** Oh, apathy, apathy I *' he said, drawn up 
 quiveringly on his toes. ** I am only one of 
 hundreds who are giving up their lives to the hope 
 of stirring your manhood into revolt ; but I des- 
 pair." Round he went. ** Men of Barking Town, 
 I despair I " Back he came. You could suspect 
 a revolving platform. " You, born of woman — 
 you, identical in Almighty's sight with those 
 opulent hogs who scorch along our highways and 
 leave a cynical track of death — have at least the 
 right to exist in the decent comfort that your 
 labour creates for others. But you will not ask 
 even that. You will not demand it " 
 
 ** We do I " piped a dissentient voice. And 
 the little orator became still and transfixed its 
 owner with a verbal arrow. 
 
 "You do? Prove it I What have you done 
 for your fellow -men ? Come up here and tell 
 us I *' 
 
 The interrupter apparently preferred to remain 
 incog. But he was to earn a little fleeting fame. 
 
 ** This is the type of man," said the orator, 
 bitingly, ** who mistakes talk for action, and desire 
 
 L.s. I 
 
114 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 for achievement. This is the type of man who 
 would do well stood in a shop -window, to show 
 off overcoats. And Tm afraid I needn't go far 
 to lay my hands on many more like him — men 
 who are splendid shouters, but craven fighters. 
 For let me assure you, my friends, there is a long 
 and bloody war before us, if we are to win back 
 from the pampered drones in this land a tithe of 
 what they have wrung from our sweat and agony 
 through the centuries . You have enemies in your 
 own ranks. You send men to the House of 
 Commons, in the name of Labour and Liberty, 
 to represent you. Once safely there, you often 
 find that they represent only themselves ; they have 
 only used your broad shoulders as a leaping -off 
 ground — they are grovelling on their bellies at the 
 feet of Capital and Power. And why? They 
 know that the working-man of this country will 
 stand anything. Anything ! That's why I'm 
 allowed to speak here every Saturday evening. 
 They know that my fuse is always laid to damp 
 gunpowder. Shame on you, though ! — because it 
 is your wives and children who suffer most. If 
 your wives and children are not ashamed of you, 
 I am ashamed of them 1 And posterity, under the 
 heel, will curse your cowardice I *' 
 
 ** What do you propose? " a mild man beneath 
 him was moved to ask. ** What's your remedy for 
 the unjust state of things ? " 
 
 The little wisp of an orator gave a violent 
 start, rubbed his eyes, and peered incredulously 
 dovm. 
 
 ** My word I " he said ; ** here's a man awake — 
 and I thought he was fast asleep. Don't finger your 
 
LOW SOCIETY 115 
 
 moustache, my friend ; you'll wear it away. What 
 do I propose? I'll ask yoa a question — equally 
 sane, if you could realise it. Supposing, just for 
 the sake of example, you had in your house a very 
 precious jewel, which you had named ' The Right 
 to Live ' ; and one night you started from sleep 
 and found a great big hulking fellow stealing it 
 under your nose. What would yoa propose? — 
 What would be your remedy ? Turn over and go 
 to sleep again? Exactly 1 I can well believe it. 
 That's what you've already done. Capital has 
 gradually filched from you every human possession 
 you held dear, except one — your bare body. They 
 won't take that. It moves and breathes and works. 
 You labour with that, and produce the wealth that 
 bolsters up Society's banking account. 
 
 ** My friends 1 " He executed a few electrical 
 movements, seeming to face all ways at once. " If 
 you don't wish to fight for yourselves, there are 
 others. Others to whom organization is denied 
 and impossible . Away in the country there, where 
 the roar of the city is never heard, and where poets 
 suppose peace eternal to brood, a ghastly and in- 
 famous stagnation reigns. There, countless thou- 
 sands of your fellow -men are simply living on in 
 order to die. They are known mostly — God help 
 them I — as agricultural labourers. That means, 
 they are bound body and soul to the estate of some 
 nobleman, some landed proprietor, or some strug- 
 gling farmer. The village is their horizon for 
 ever. You cannot hear at this distance their 
 chains clanking, but they are so many slaves of 
 the soil — serfs of the land -owner who will one day 
 answer to God for his stewardship, because his 
 
 I 2 
 
Ii6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 fellow-men never had the pluck to call him to 
 account here below. 
 
 ** They have plenty of work, these slaves — oh, 
 yes, from dawn until darkness all the year round. 
 And in return they may get from twelve to sixteen 
 shillings a week, so that their large families may 
 be reared in comfort ; and furthermore, my lord 
 allows them to live, at a so-called nominal rent, in 
 cottages that you in London would call pig-sties. 
 If they touch a rabbit, or snare a bird, or snap a 
 bough for firewood, they are sent to gaol — by their 
 own employers, so-called Justices of the Peace. 
 If they attempt to break free from their deaden- 
 ing bondage, their occupation in life is gone. All 
 around them are countless thousands of acres of 
 fair land ; but my lord needs it all for his preserves . 
 If I told you of all I have seen there in my wan- 
 derings, you here in the cities would be almost 
 contented men. You would wonder that Almighty 
 allowed human lives to be held so cheap under 
 the iron rod of the ' blue-blooded ' few who own 
 the countryside — who will not allow another cot- 
 tage to be built on their vast estates — who give a 
 bun and a blanket at Christmas to those village 
 slaves who have shown up at church regularly — 
 who feast and gamble and commit wholesale adul- 
 tery while village -women awaiting child -bed are 
 picking up stones or potatoes all day in their 
 ploughed acres. 
 
 ** But enough of that ! I am talking to-night 
 to men who have the remedy in their own hands. 
 I don*t know that it is of any use, after all. A 
 good many of you may be starving again before 
 the winter is out ; but you have the comforting 
 
LOW SOCIETY 117 
 
 reflection that the authorities, now as always, are 
 prepared to give the matter their most careful 
 consideration in due course. You mustn't hurry 
 them I And, above all, you hug the glorious fact 
 that you are all — or nearly all — to have Old Age 
 Pensions at seventy years of age. Only think of 
 it — at seventy ! Can't you raise a cheer? What 
 more do you want ? — What rude fellow is that 
 asking for work and food and comfort while he 
 is able to appreciate them ? Why, my dear friends, 
 the officially-estimated average life of the working 
 man is fifty-five years of age. And there's your 
 pension awaiting you, when you have only been 
 dead fifteen years. . . . The Salvation Army will 
 now sing a hymn ! " 
 
 He stepped abruptly down, and did not reappear. 
 The crowd of men looked foolish, and then, with 
 its hands deep in its pockets, drifted away in 
 search of some excitement less taxing upon the 
 mental energies. Above all, the aim of the 
 average Briton in any set of circumstances is, 
 to *' take things easy." 
 
 At least two hours later, when the din had died 
 from her ears and the naphtha -flare seemed very 
 far away, Hungerford's wife stole into the little 
 rear bedroom at No. Nine to see that the window - 
 fastenings were secure, and that no man had 
 secreted himself there with felonious intent during 
 their absence. 
 
 ** It's empty and locked," Hungerford had 
 laughed. " There's nothing to fear." 
 
 " Ah," she said, with acumen, '* everybody 
 thinks that until the burglar has been and gone." 
 
 There was no burglar to-night ; but there was a 
 
Ii8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 beautiful lacework of light lying upon the walls 
 and bare boards . The moon out there had overcome 
 the mist and was shining down through silvery 
 space like a serene, questioning eye. It lent all 
 the brown landscape beyond a majestic solemnity, 
 and transfigured Ella's figure at the blank window 
 into that of a spirit. It held her, and made her 
 think involuntarily of the Eternal Presence : the 
 Rock Immutable against which the transient atoms 
 below — the clamouring pigmy-legions here to-day, 
 gone to-morrow — hurled their strength in vain. It 
 dwarfed all idea of human greatness, and reduced 
 the conception of Earth to its true proportions — 
 a mere speck revolving in space to which there 
 is no beginning and no end. She wanted to call 
 to Jim to come and stand and see eye to eye with 
 her, and could not. To him, at the moment, the 
 moon might have been a moon and nothing more. 
 
 And then, all swiftly, her mind came back to the 
 realities. Steeped in the rare illumination, every 
 stack of material and square of masonry standing 
 out in relief, lay the ugly beginnings of the new 
 row of villas beyond the garden fence. From this 
 height, they looked like a line of brick -and -mortar 
 puzzle -blocks. And in and out of them, now lost 
 and now reappearing, moved the figure of a man. 
 
 For him, the hour had no meaning. For him, 
 there was nothing in life that mattered save this 
 inchoate mass of building material out of which 
 brains and muscles were evolving order and de- 
 sign. Now and then he threw back his head to 
 look critically up at the scaffold -poles ; now and 
 then he tested a rope -knot ; now and then he 
 stooped to pick up a stray brick and place it care- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 119 
 
 fully on the unused stack. Then he folded his 
 arms and resumed his calm tour of general inspec- 
 tion. The fact that eyes might be watching no 
 more disconcerted him than it hampers the natural 
 impulses of a caged animal. 
 
 Ella had never been nearer to him than she was 
 now. She knew him to be neatly dressed, and to 
 differ in no specific way from the average man — 
 save that she had never heard him speak, not even 
 in the presence of Casswade's workmen, who paid 
 no more heed to him than to their own shadows. 
 This, of course, was not enough for any woman 
 with the true feminine spirit of curiosity. She had 
 found an opportunity to speak to Josh, the 
 foreman. 
 
 " Who is he? " Josh had said in his abstracted 
 manner, after some hesitation. ** Well, he's no 
 one. He's gone." Josh touched his forehead. 
 " Quite gone." 
 
 " But — but is he quite safe ? " this had made her 
 whisper, her eyes wide. 
 
 " Safe? He's as harmless, Mrs. Hungerford, as 
 my baby in its cot. That's why Mr. Cass wade lets 
 him roam about the buildings night or day." 
 
 " Out of kindness," she suggested, in awe. 
 And impassive Josh screwed up his face as for a 
 yawn. 
 
 *' M'yes I " he said. •' Yes, that's it." 
 
 "What is his name?" was her last natural 
 question. " He must have a name I " 
 
 *' Loney," he said. *' Peter Loney. Good 
 morning, ma'am I " 
 
 To-night, as she softly let down the blind 
 and shut out the moonlight, her true little heart 
 
I20 "LOW SOCIETY 
 
 was full of vague pain for the trouble of another 
 that seemed to her too deep and sacred to be 
 probed farther. 
 
 ** Oh, Boy — Boy I " she said, a little later, turn- 
 ing her damp cheek upon the pillow to kiss Hun- 
 gerford *' Good-night ! *' "I only ask God not t6 
 think our happiness is too real for this earth 1 ** 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 For near a week after this, Mr. Matt Casswade 
 was missing from his usual nightly haunts. Many 
 conjectures were made as to the reason for this 
 aloofness in so methodical a person, the most 
 weighty being to the effect that he had forsworn 
 liquor to become a Good Templar. The " fat " 
 theory was also revived ; while the bar-lady at the 
 *' local " adhered to her belief that Mr. Casswade 
 was on his merits as a prospective husband, in 
 which case it was only reasonable that he might be 
 seeking to cut a presentable figure by reducing 
 his bulk. 
 
 " Mark my words," she said, '* there's a * she/ 
 And it's not that Miss Pugh, or whatever her name 
 is. If I were a man, I'd have a bet on it." 
 
 Women, as a rule, only bet when sure of the 
 result ; but in point of fact, there was nothing so 
 delicate or far-reaching in Mr. Casswade 's un- 
 known movements. And if he was missing any- 
 thing in liquor between eight and eleven p.m., he 
 made up ground fully upon reaching home, with 
 the result that Miss Pugh passed increasingly 
 nervous nights. He had simply set himself each 
 evening to hover at the lower end of Tamplin 
 Street, without appearing to be doing anything 
 of the kind. 
 
 For any man of ordinary appearance, this would 
 
122 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 have been comparatively easy. With Mr. Cass- 
 wade, it was an ordeal that induced frequent per- 
 spirations and original curses. He would have 
 disguised himself for his purpose, but this was 
 practically impossible ; all he could do was to turn 
 up his coat -collar, make a deceptive dent in his 
 hat, and appear to be casually scanning a poster 
 about a Mothers' Meeting and a sale of work. 
 He loathed Mothers* Meetings, and knew every 
 word on the poster by heart ; but it had to be done. 
 And here was Friday. Intolerable as it seemed 
 on the part of a young man who professed to be in 
 love, four whole evenings had passed, and not once 
 apparently had young Baversham called to take 
 Selina out of the way for a walk. To Casswade, 
 who went under the impression that a lovers' walk 
 was the fixed programme for every pair of young 
 fools in existence, it appeared monstrous. W^hen 
 at length, at nine o'clock on Friday evening, he 
 made out the stiff -built figure of young Baversham 
 approaching quite normally, he felt his blood boil . 
 There was another spell of fifteen minutes to be 
 passed in re-reading the poster ; and then, at last, 
 he saw them emerge, arm-in-arm, Selina leaning 
 languorously, and wearing a hat which made 
 George's detested bowler look three sizes smaller 
 than it really was. From a dark doorway, hardly 
 allowing himself to breathe, Mr. Casswade watched 
 them safely out of sight. That they might never 
 come back alive was too much to hope for, even in 
 his state of mind. He had to be content with the 
 knowledge that at last he had the treacherous Mr. 
 Shadd cornered, and that his moment had come to 
 do something decisive, if not actually desperate . 
 
LOW SOCIETY 123 
 
 His frontal bulk poised impressively, he moved 
 up the street and halted outside Mr. Shadd's shop. 
 There were three or four customers to be served, 
 as it happened ; but he could afford to wait. He 
 waited, with a deadly, basilisk expression in re- 
 serve for the moment when Mr. Shadd caught 
 sight of him. 
 
 " S — s — s — ** came the halting sibilants from 
 Mr. Shadd, as his scales dipped under a small pile 
 of bacon " pieces " for the last customer— a boy 
 who could hardly see over the counter. It was 
 almost a moral certainty that he was working 
 himself up to *' sevenpence," and even to an odd 
 halfpenny if conscience would stretch as far. But 
 he happened to glance up, and he saw the huge, 
 motionless bulk of Mr. Casswade, with hands dug 
 into his sides, blocking up the outlet in grim 
 suggestiveness. " Sixpence," he said, with merely 
 a shakiness. "Why, it's never Mr. Casswade? 
 This is a surprise I " 
 
 ** Is it? " said Mr. Casswade, with slow mean- 
 ing. *' Yes, p'r'aps it is. Go on, pack up the lad's 
 pieces ; don't mind me ; you mayn't be takin' 
 money much longer." 
 
 " Ha, ha 1 " laughed Mr. Shadd feebly. " Yes, 
 just fancy — I was only saying to Mrs. Shadd in 
 the night that I did hope we hadn't done any- 
 thing intentional to offend " 
 
 ** The lad waits," repeated Casswade, motioning 
 with a nice sense of the dramatic. ** Bis'ness 
 before even me, or what you said in the night." 
 
 In marked haste, with that cold stare upon him, 
 Mr. Shadd wrapped up the bacon, took his money, 
 stooped for the long-service finger-cloth beneath 
 
124 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 the counter, and, quite unthinkingly, mopped his 
 face with it. The effect was instantaneous. 
 
 " You know what you've done, I s'pose ? " asked 
 Casswade, still not moving. " Look at yourself in 
 the glass." 
 
 *' Bless me ! " He used his handkerchief hur- 
 riedly. " It took me back, seeing you there of a 
 sudden like that. Just half a second, Mr. Cass- 
 wade, while I open the private door '* 
 
 ** Let it alone," said Casswade, in his deepest 
 voice. " I don't ask any private door, or any other 
 hole-and-corner bis 'ness. This '11 dome. Now, sir I" 
 
 Visibly subdued and alarmed, Mr. Shadd threw 
 back the counter -flap ; and Casswade squeezed 
 past it with dignity, and entered the parlour 
 beyond. Shadd ran for the best leather chair, 
 dusted it with the same handkerchief, and 
 staggered forward with it — not appearing to notice 
 as his visitor twitched away the antimacassar and 
 flung it into a corner. 
 
 " Leave the door open," Casswade said. ** I'm 
 not afraid o' bein' heard ; and you might be losin' 
 a ha'penny-egg customer." 
 
 He sat slowly down — half rising again as Mr. 
 Shadd rushed forward with the special small table 
 and a decanter. 
 
 " Not for me," he said, with warmth. " I don't 
 want it. I had some o' that last time I was here. 
 Nearly killed me." 
 
 '* This? " faltered the other, nearly speechless. 
 *' What, when it was bought for the best old 
 whiskey " 
 
 ** Then, they saw you comin*. I don't want it, 
 I say. I respect my innards, if you don't." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 125 
 
 Mr. Shadd let the decanter drop with a dull 
 bang. This was almost the last conceivable straw. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Casswade, whatever 's the matter to- 
 night ? Whatever have we done, to be insulted 
 — I can't call it anything less — by an old friend 
 like yourself? " 
 
 "What have you done?" Casswade wheeled 
 round in the chair, to stare glassily up at him. 
 " Nothin'. But don't you dare to call me an old 
 friend, or a new one either. Because Fm not here 
 as a friend, but as a bloomin' enemy ; understand 
 that." 
 
 Mr. Shadd winced, as his small ** occasional " 
 table quivered and jumped under a convincing 
 down -blow from the enemy's flat hand. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he whispered. ** I never thought 
 to hear such words in my lifetime. But whatever 
 I've done, and whatever I feel, I'm not going to 
 allow you to excite yourself." 
 
 ** Oh ! Why not?" demanded Mr. Casswade, 
 his hand suspended for another blow. For a 
 moment he suspected that the ** strangulating fat " 
 theory was part of an organized joke which had 
 gone the round of Barking. 
 
 ** Because — " he tried to edge the table away 
 — " because of your health, of course." 
 
 ** Oh ! What's wrong with my health? Why 
 can't I get excited, if I want to — if I mean to ? 
 Eh ? I s*pose, because I happen to be a little thick 
 in the neck " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," thrust in Mr. Shadd, 
 with eager indignation. Casswade's appearance 
 at the moment certainly warranted his fears — as 
 did Mr. Casswade's next hoarse words. 
 
126 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " I know all about it. I'll have a fit, if I 
 choose ; and I'll have it in your bloomin' parlour, 
 if I choose. That's me." And down came his hand 
 with a crash. 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't," gasped the other. " I 
 mean, you've nearly upset the decanter." 
 
 ** And I mean to, before I go," he replied, still 
 more hoarsely. ** I'll tell you now, I've got the 
 power, and I'm goin' to upset the whole blessed 
 show." 
 
 "You are?" Shadd queried, eyeing him as- 
 kance. " That's a very strange thing to say, Mr. 
 Casswade, even if it's not " 
 
 " Wait ! " He got up. "I see your game. 
 * Let him cool down,' thinks you. * Let him have 
 the easy chair and get a drop o' drink down his 
 neck.* Not me I See it?" He waved in the 
 direction of the shop. ** You can take your last 
 look at it. I'm goin' to bust up your bis'ness — 
 pickles, firewood, and all the rest of it. You 
 greasy -faced Judas, you 1 " 
 
 Mr. Shadd looked fixedly at the floor. He did 
 not care to move, or look in any other direction. 
 He was impeached and sentenced without any 
 pretence of a trial, and felt it awkward. 
 
 ** Judas ! " went on Mr. Casswade. " Very nice 
 idea o' yours, wasn't it, to get me here for your 
 bloomin' birthday party. Very nice to stop people 
 in the street and say : ^ Allow me — my friend, Mr. 
 Casswade I ' Very good idea to cadge a cash 
 weddin' present out o' me " 
 
 ** I never did," dared Mr. Shadd, strenuously. 
 " Whatever else I am, I'm not that." 
 
 ** Ain't you? I thought you was. My mistake. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 127 
 
 Well, now, listen to me." He put one broad foot 
 on the leather chair, and dug his forefinger into 
 Mr. Shadd to punctuate the sentences. If Mr. 
 Shadd were ticklish, he suffered without being able 
 to move a muscle. ** When you run up against 
 Casswade, you did a silly thing, and you're goin* 
 to rue it to your dyin' day, whether it's to-morrow 
 or next week. See? " And Mr. Shadd kept up 
 a series of stifled gasps. Someone was knocking 
 on the shop counter, but he dared not betray 
 interest in the fact . The revelation to come was so 
 clearly of a tremendous nature, if as yet inexpli- 
 cable. ** Now 1 I've found out that you do go 
 to church, and I've found out where you go to 
 church ; and I've found out what I expected — that 
 you're a bloomin' half-and-half deacon, and that 
 you've worked up a money-makin* contract to 
 supply the school treats and swarries with butter 
 and groceries and what not at a ruinous bloomin* 
 figure — in fact, that you've come the usual pew- 
 and -parson game all round. And I'm goin* to 
 stop it. I'm goin' to show you right up — never 
 mind how. I don't reckon you'll ever put your 
 head inside any church when I've done with you. 
 Your bis'ness is busted. Your church game is 
 jest about over. That's all." 
 
 He stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his 
 waistcoat, and waited. Even now it looked like 
 being an inconclusive denouement^ as Mr. Shadd 
 could not seem to recollect who or where he was. 
 But in the pregnant pause a step sounded on the 
 stair. Mrs. Shadd, who was changing into her 
 evening dress above, had caught a stray syllable 
 here and there, and wondered what it was all 
 
128 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 about. The sudden sight of her, with only a towel 
 flung around her bare shoulders, restored her 
 husband's faculties to a certain extent. 
 
 " It's all right," he rattled. '* It's only Mr. 
 Casswade called.^ We're talking business." 
 
 " Yes, strict bis'ness, ma'am, if you don't 
 mind," corroborated Casswade, with cold em- 
 phasis ; and she retreated. " Serve that female," 
 he added, pointing shopwards. " She's been 
 thumpin' for the last five minutes." 
 
 The female required two tallow candles, and 
 would bring the twopence round early in the morn- 
 ing, because, as she explained, her husband had 
 had a bad half-sovereign given him, and was 
 trying to get rid of it. She shouldn't think of 
 passing the same off on Mr. Shadd. 
 
 " That's it ; that's about the limit o' your 
 dealin's in the future — tuppence on the nod," 
 Mr. Casswade said, with cheerful decision, as the 
 other returned. "I'm goin' to see the vicar o' 
 that church the first thing ; and if that don't 
 do, I know what will. There's jest a few in that 
 church owe me money in my bis'ness." 
 
 '* Then — then it amounts to intimidation on your 
 part?" Mr. Shadd forced himself to say in 
 desperation. 
 
 ** I don't care what it amounts to," laughed 
 Casswade, striding up and down. ** It's me 
 against you. I'm Casswade of Barking, and 
 you're simply Shadd of Tamplin Street — which 
 is as good as Mr. Nobody of bloomin' Nowhere, 
 And I'm goin' to do this," he proceeded, reaching 
 out to bang the table solemnly again, " simply 
 because you're no man, but a low-down serpent." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 129 
 
 "I'm not. I assure you, if you mean " Mr. 
 
 Shadd essayed, almost touchingly. He was easily 
 overwhelmed. 
 
 " I do mean. I know what I'm sayin'," roared 
 Casswade, all by -play at an end now. " I've 
 stood at the end of this blessed street five nights, 
 readin' a Mothers' Meetin' bill, waitin' till I knew 
 them young devils were out o' the way — out o* 
 the way o' my fist, I mean. Here's me, a master 
 builder and property owner, respected everywhere, 
 standin* up to have dirt thrown at me wherever I 
 go, and made the laughin' stock o* the place, and 
 have my clients waylaid and told criminal lies 
 about me, by your daughter and her feller from 
 Beckton. What 1 " 
 
 " It's the first I've heard of it," the other trem- 
 bled. "The very first." 
 
 •* What I " repeated Casswade. ** Why, you'd 
 stand up and lie to a judge, I do believe. Here, 
 I sat in that very chair there, not a month ago, 
 drinkin' bad whiskey on your account, and allowin' 
 myself to shake hands with all and bloomin' sundry 
 you'd invited here to get birthday presents from 
 — and then you turn round in secret to try and 
 ruin my bis'ness name and connections. You'll 
 tell me next she ain't your daughter at all. You'll 
 bring the missis down to swear you don't know 
 nothin' about her or her half-baked feller from 
 Beckton I " 
 
 "What has she done?" asked the maddened 
 Shadd. " You come here like a wild bull, 
 accusing me of what I don't know anything 
 about — wliat have I done, I ask? State your 
 facts 1 " 
 
 L.s. K 
 
I30 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** Oh, you actor," said Mr. Casswade, suddenly 
 sinking his voice and leaning forward. " You 
 dirty actor — that's what you are. Who put the 
 words into her mouth? — the very words that I 
 said to you in strict private, as man to man, when 
 I warned you against the feller she was thinkin' 
 to marry ? What I said to you about him was on 
 her account, to be treated as sacred ; and to think 
 that immediately my back's turned, you go and 
 tell him all, and lay me open to an action for 
 slander — although, mind you, I can bring my 
 witnesses to prove that I've never hinted such a 
 thing, and other witnesses to prove that he's no 
 good to any single woman," he finished, thus 
 hedging both ways and leaving no loophole. 
 
 '* I swear," persisted Mr. Shadd, earnestly, *' I 
 have never breathed a word of it to either of them. 
 There 1 " 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 ** I swear that," he repeated, with hand uplifted. 
 '* Never a syllable." 
 
 ** Well, strike me purple," breathed Mr. Cass- 
 wade, wiping his forehead as he went walking to 
 and fro. ** Either you or me's stark balmy." He 
 halted. " Either you or me, I say. Which is it? 
 Not me." 
 
 " And not me," returned Mr. Shadd, just as 
 steadily. It rendered Mr. Casswade sarcastic by 
 its very air of genuineness. 
 
 ** Very likely it's all that whiskey o' yours," 
 he suggested. " Or p'r'aps you talk in your sleep, 
 eh?" 
 
 " No, I'd no need to do that," Shadd retorted, 
 at bay. "I'd told my wife all about it from be- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 131 
 
 ginning to end, before we went to sleep that 
 night." 
 
 "Oh, you did?" Casswade halted again, his 
 voice changing. " Hullo, then, that accounts for 
 it all, p'r'aps. That's the meanin* of it. Now 
 we're comin' down to it." 
 
 " Not at all." Shadd was struck, but not dis- 
 mayed. " She's never uttered a word of it, to my 
 knowledge. You'd have done the same, from a 
 mere sense of manhood. Man and wife are one in 
 everything, as you know." 
 
 " I don't know," rasped the other, with heat. 
 " I dunno any thin' about wimmen 'cept that I don't 
 want to know anythin' more about 'em than I do. 
 You told her. That's enough for me. And see 
 what you've done — busted yourself." 
 
 There was a pause. Mr. Shadd seemed to be 
 mentally clutching at some faint, remote chance of 
 patching up matters and averting disaster even 
 now. 
 
 ** I hope not," he ventured, presently. "Mr. 
 Casswade, it has just occurred to me, if you'll 
 allow me to speak. You know what girls of that 
 age are — especially in love. Now I come to think 
 of it, I was talking it over with Mrs. Shadd in this 
 very room, late that same Sunday night. The 
 question was — should Baversham be shunted as 
 undesirable ? And Selina might have been listen- 
 ing on the stairs there. In fact, now I come to 
 think again, I believe she must have been. Be- 
 cause they've both seemed a little peculiar ever 
 since — as if she'd told him all, and he'd taken it 
 in a wrong light." 
 
 " Oh, you begin to think, do you? " Casswade 
 
 K 2 
 
132 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 sneered. ** P'r'aps now you'll keep it up and say 
 what's to be done ? " 
 
 " I can hardly thrash her — at that age," he re- 
 flected, still bent on pacification at any cost. 
 ** And it wouldn't do much good — although I will, 
 if you wish it. Look here, Mr. Casswade, this is 
 a serious matter for all concerned. Supposing 
 you, as a friend of the family, and the injured 
 party, were to meet them both here with us, and 
 talk it over thoroughly " 
 
 ** Not me," said Casswade, puffing out all the 
 breath he had held in. ** What d'you take me 
 for? D'you think I, a master builder, am goin* 
 to sit down and argue with a man like that — an 
 underfed feller from Beckton? And as for your 
 daughter Likely I'd lower myself to any- 
 thin' o' that kind after she's been and " 
 
 "Yes, what has Selina been up to?" Shadd 
 asked apprehensively, as he paused. 
 
 ** Up to — never you mind." He had almost 
 betrayed himself by feeling his cheeks in turn. 
 ** I've done enough in comin' here to put the whole 
 thing to you, in private. It's got to end. I don't 
 care what you do, or how you do it : it's got to 
 end. You and your wife bein' one, no doubt 
 you'll tell her everythin' the moment I'm gone. 
 All I say to you is " 
 
 There was a noise of smothered laughter and 
 footsteps in the shop beyond. The counter-flap 
 went up and down. Mr. Shadd took one backward 
 glance, and shot round, with an imploring throat - 
 rattle. 
 
 " It's them back — Selina and him 1 You won't, 
 for heaven's sake " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 133 
 
 Mr. Casswade's figure had gone up. His arm 
 had gone out. He looked ready and awful. 
 
 ** Don't I '* the other had just time to breathe. 
 ** Not here ! Wait, if you only can — wait till 
 you're outside I " 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 The courting couple strolled in. One stare, 
 and then Selina, a hand flung to her mouth, made 
 a hasty rush for the staircase ; the sound of hyste- 
 rical laughter died away above. How Casswade 
 bore himself in that moment — how his body stood 
 the bursting strain put upon it — was something 
 best left unasked and unsolved. In great measure, 
 no doubt, it was due to the paralysing coolness 
 of Selina's young man. 
 
 " How do ? " Baversham said, with an easy nod, 
 as if nothing in Mr. Casswade 's attitude was at all 
 singular. He sank into the first chair handy, and 
 tossed the bowler hat aside, to push back his hair. 
 '* Decent evenin', but we didn't get far. Yes, I 
 will, if it's all the same to you." 
 
 Shaking from head to foot, Mr. Shadd had had 
 just sufficient presence of mind left to snatch up 
 the decanter and break the spell. In that crucial 
 moment, while his body formed a partial screen 
 for both men, Casswade somehow or other dropped 
 back into the leather-covered chair. The balances 
 swayed. For a minute Mr. Shadd dared not look 
 round ; and then, on a second inspiration, he 
 actually drew forward the special little table again. 
 With a great sigh Casswade let his elbow go 
 limply down to meet the support. There was 
 hope I He had been called that night a serpent : 
 
LOW SOCIETY 135 
 
 with the cunrrtng stealth of one, Mr. Shadd half 
 filled another glass from the same decanter, and 
 slid it close to the arm. Presently Mr. Casswade 
 glared down at it, as something he had never seen 
 before — and then swallowed its contents at a gulp. 
 
 ** Thank God I " muttered Shadd, turning his 
 face. Never had a man meant it more fervently. 
 
 Softly, after another pause for safety-play, he 
 went and closed the door facing the staircase. He 
 deemed it improbable that either Selina or her 
 mother would be coming down just yet. Softly, 
 after another lull, he emptied the last of the 
 whiskey into Mr. Casswade 's glass, and looked 
 up presently to see that it was gone. He thought 
 it safe to draw up a chair and take the edge of it 
 himself. 
 
 ** And how's your young woman ? '* 
 
 It was Casswade's voice, thick but restrained, 
 breaking the silence with a suddenness that took 
 the breath. He had lifted his lowered head, and 
 was looking straight at Baversham. 
 
 ** Oh, she's nicely, thank you," Baversham said, 
 looking straight back. "And how are you, if I 
 may ask? " 
 
 "I'm as you see me — always about the same. 
 I'm good for any man's money, sir, if he likes to 
 try me. I can give and take, and I can hit 
 devilish hard for my years." 
 
 " I see," said George, as if he had wondered on 
 those points. 
 
 There was another perilous spell of silence and 
 hard breathing. Then gradually Mr. Casswade's 
 contribution to the latter relaxed. He looked 
 across again,^ with merely the fixed scowl of one 
 
136 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 who had been cheated of murder and wanted the 
 fact to be fully recognised. 
 
 ** You're thinkin' o' marryin', I understand. 
 Like the idea? " 
 
 " Well, I don't mind it," George admitted, 
 frankly. " I s'pose we shall rub along like most 
 others. We ought to. There's plenty o' people 
 with advice about, if that's anythin'." 
 
 " It's a risky game," Casswade commented, 
 seeming really about to deliberately lay aside his 
 purpose in coming there. Shadd was ready to 
 spring up and create a diversion — even by smash- 
 ing the decanter accidentally — the instant a nasty 
 word or look crept in. ** Like Barkin' as well as 
 Beckton? " 
 
 *' I don't live at Beckton," the young man re- 
 m'inded him. And he corrected himself hastily. 
 
 ** Ah, of course not — my mistake. No, I 
 wouldn't like any man o' my acquaintance to live 
 in that Gawd-forsaken place, along o' Chinamen 
 and river -scum." 
 
 ** But I work there," said Baversham, pointedly. 
 
 ** Ah, yes — yes, to be sure ! The place is all 
 right, I expect, when you get used to it." He 
 looked down at his glass, the chagrin of playing 
 lamb when he was really a lion obviously surging 
 uppermost again. Up sprang Mr. Shadd. 
 
 " I haven't another drain left in the place," he 
 whispered, feverishly. *' If you wouldn't mind 
 being left a moment, I could get some " 
 
 That was enough. " No more for me," said 
 Casswade, with decision. *' I've got tons at home 
 — if I liked to touch it." He turned yet again 
 to Baversham, who seemed quite unable to feel or 
 
LOW SOCIETY 137 
 
 look like a prisoner mercifully reprieved. 
 ** Thinkin' about a bis'ness o' some sort, I hear? 
 What line, might I ask? " 
 
 ** Well, I dunno myself," said Baversham care- 
 lessly, nursing one knee. ** I haven't really gone 
 into the matter seriously. Selina has, though." 
 
 ** Then you're a fool," Casswade bluntly in- 
 formed him. " If you're thinkin* of investin' 
 your money, so to speak, you ought to be up and 
 doin', with eyes in the back o' your head and 
 everywhere else." 
 
 " Physical impossibility, that," remarked 
 George, absently. 
 
 " Eh ? " rapped Casswade. ** What's that ? " 
 
 ** I mean, I'm in no particular hurry about 
 gettin' a bis'ness or gettin' married either." 
 
 "What d'you say to that?" Casswade asked, 
 turning his glare upon Mr. Shadd. " What does 
 Selina say ? Is that how you felt about your 
 wife?" 
 
 ** Well — " Mr. Shadd was just beginning to 
 feel normal again — " well, I rather think I 
 was a leetle more eager in a way, myself, on the 
 point, so to speak. But I daresay you've noticed 
 that — er — the young people nowadays are not quite 
 what we were." 
 
 " I have," agreed the other, emphatically. 
 ** And I notice it more every bloomin' day." 
 
 •* Not, of course," went on Mr. Shadd, in haste, 
 ** but what we're all — well, what we are'' 
 
 " Oh, cert'nly — although I dunno what you 
 mean," agreed Casswade again. He bit round 
 one finger-nail, deep in tremendous thought that 
 apparently came to nothing useful. " What / 
 
138 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 meant," he said, ** was that, from all I've heard, 
 it don't seem natural — not quite the thing in a 
 young man, whatever the woman feels. But that's 
 neither here nor there. I'm not asked for any 
 opinion.'* 
 
 *' Quite so," said Baversham, softly reflective. 
 "Quite so." 
 
 ** At the same time," proceeded Casswade, 
 keeping his eye on the tortured Mr. Shadd, *' most 
 fathers with a daughter like that would want to 
 know who's who, and what's what," 
 
 ** Ah, and why's why," added George, deeply. 
 Mr. Shadd implored him with another convulsive 
 wink to pick his words or keep silent ; but he 
 seemed not to see. 
 
 ** I don't follow you, young man," Casswade 
 said, loudly. And George left his reverie, with a 
 start. 
 
 **Eh? Er — no, I'm followin' you, sir. You 
 were sayin' " 
 
 " I was sayin' nothin'. As a matter o* fact, I 
 don't hold with any man tyin' himself up to any 
 woman whatsoever, 'cause it stands to reason " 
 
 ** You'd have the population stop altogether? " 
 Baversham breathed. 
 
 " No, sir 1 Why should it? Stop be blowed. 
 What about birds ? What about birds, beasts and 
 fishes?" 
 
 Mr. Shadd coughed and looked at the ceiling. 
 Baversham blew his nose and made a swoop at a 
 passing fly. The arresting bang of Mr. Cass- 
 wade's hand on the small table startled them both, 
 and made Shadd groan inaudibly. 
 
 " What about it,. I say ? D'you hear, sir ? '* 
 
LOW SOCIETY 139 
 
 " I think— I rather think — " whispered Mr. 
 Shadd, " we'll leave that point for the moment, 
 as — er ** — he jerked his head toward the stair- 
 case — " you know what women are." 
 
 "Jest as you like. Our friend here" — in- 
 dicating Baversham — " was speakin' about 
 bis'ness. And that's one thing I do reckon I know 
 a bit about. I can offer an opinion on that, if 
 nothin' else. I can tell a man if he's likely to 
 make hisself a millionaire or make hisself a fool. 
 1$ that so, or not? " 
 
 ** I believe," said Mr. Shadd, with feeling, 
 " that if Selina and her young man felt able to 
 accept expert advice, they couldn't do better." 
 
 ** Very well, then." Casswade settled himself 
 less stiffly in the chair. ** In the first place, I 
 could give this Selina's young man a tip worth 
 ten pounds as a lead-off. And it's this : if he 
 means bis'ness at all, let him drop that rotten name 
 of his on the spot and take another." 
 
 " Rotten? " queried George, quite mildly, con- 
 sidering. 
 
 ** That's what I said, sir. It's a name that *ud 
 do for Dick, Tom and Harry in any bloomin' 
 crowd ; but over a shop, or on a nameplate, it 
 wouldn't draw a starved bug." 
 
 '* It wouldn't? " echoed George, obviously im- 
 pressed. 
 
 •' And it wouldn't come quick to anyone's' 
 tongue — which is the first thing you've got to 
 think of in bis'ness. And if you can't see the force 
 o* that at once, you'd better put your money in 
 the Savings Bank and let it go mouldy for want o' 
 brains." 
 
140 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 *' Fancy 1 " said George. "What would you 
 suggest, now? " 
 
 ** Why " This was abrupt. Mr. Casswade 
 
 ruminated tensely a minute. *' Why, I'll tell 
 you. The sort o' name you want and must have, 
 is — Golightly Brown. There you are ; you can't 
 beat it. I see it on a doctor's plate." 
 
 " Brown," mu^ed George. "I'm afraid Selina 
 'ud kick at that. In fact, I know she would." 
 
 ** It's not exactly classic, you mean to say," Mr. 
 Shadd ventured, carefully. 
 
 ** Classic be blowed," said Casswade. *• Classic 
 won't pay a man's rent and taxes. Classic was all 
 very well for a naked Greek or Indian, but I'm 
 talkin' o' to-day ! Come to that, he could shove 
 up * Golightly Baversham ' ; but, my Gawd, you'd 
 have people tumblin' over it. I never heard such 
 a name in my life, and that's a fact." 
 
 The owner of it stroked his chin silently a 
 moment. At first sight, it was certainly a drastic 
 step that was proposed. 
 
 *' I s'pose you didn't have to alter yours at all ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "Me? No. What for? There was the name 
 cut and dried. It was * Matt Casswade this,' and 
 
 * Matt Casswade that,' all over the place as soon as 
 I started. But ask yourself — Baversham I No 
 
 * go ' in it — no guts — no meanin' whatever." And 
 Baversham sat back. 
 
 " It's worth considerin'," he said. " But as for 
 
 * Golightly,' I'd see myself damned and bankrupt 
 first." 
 
 " George I " protested Mr. Shadd. "I can't 
 have that here — in Selina's hearing, above all. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 141 
 
 Come, now ! " And Casswade forced a short but 
 meaning laugh. 
 
 " Oh, you dunno all about Selina's young man. 
 You've got to find him out." 
 
 George could have found a retort to match, but 
 for some reason or other he preferred to appear 
 steeped in abstract thought, the while he tapped 
 and lit a cigarette. This soothing action reminded 
 Casswade of a reserve-cigar in his own pocket. 
 He produced it elaborately, found it cracked in the 
 middle, handed it to Mr. Shadd as a present, and 
 fell back on his pipe. Mr. Shadd, who seldom 
 smoked, pricked the cigar in half a dozen places 
 to make it " draw," and presently had smoke 
 issuing from each puncture. He laid it down. 
 
 " Someone in the shop," he gasped, chokily. 
 
 He hurried out, closing the door behind him. 
 He was back in a few minutes, panting ; and drew 
 from his pocket with triumphant stealth a bottle of 
 whiskey. 
 
 ** Cork drawn and all. Quick work, eh ? " he 
 said, to remove the constraint. " Now we shall be 
 comfortable and sociable like. . Ah, if I have a 
 friend drop in, I like him to feel he is a friend, 
 and welcome to everything I've got in the place." 
 
 "Humph," grunted Casswade. '- A wonder 
 your house ain't full o* friends night and day. 
 Half and half for me." 
 
 '* Half and half for Mr. Casswade," Shadd re- 
 peated, chuckling to himself over a tragedy turned 
 into comedy by sheer clever handling. He was 
 properly careful, however, to see that Baversham 
 had merely a dash of spirit to the glass of water. 
 ** Well, this is what I call nice and cosy," he said, 
 
142 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 as he sat down fairly on his chair. ** And all I 
 wish is it could happen every night. On one side 
 of me a prosperous business gentleman respected 
 by all Barking, and on the other side of me a man 
 just setting out on the ocean of life — I think I'll 
 shut the shop ! " 
 
 He did so, to the astonishment of Tamplin 
 Street, which confidently predicted that the pro- 
 posed marriage was " off " and that Selina had 
 taken to her bed. Returning, he marvelled anew 
 to find that Mr. Casswade had actually conde- 
 scended to re-open the conversation in his absence. 
 
 ** I was jest tellin' your daughter's young man,'* 
 Casswade said, pointing his pipe as at a prize pig 
 up for auction, " that, on second thoughts, he 
 can't do anythin' better than buy a bis'ness that's 
 goin' to pieces, work it up, sell it at a big profit, 
 and buy another o' the same sort — keep on, in 
 fact, like a bloomin' rollin' snowball. I'd start 
 the game myself to-morrow, if I wanted money. 
 There's no brains required — that's the beauty of 
 it — jest suit him down to the ground." 
 
 *' It is, indeed," agreed Mr. Shadd, with dubious 
 enthusiasm. ** What does George say to it ? " 
 
 " It's great — absolutely great, I think," was 
 Baversham's unexpected reply. " In fact, I can't 
 see any hitch in it. Let's see 1 You buy the 
 bis'ness as it's goin' to pieces, work it up — how, 
 did you say you worked it up?" he broke off, 
 innocently. 
 
 If he had intended this as a sarcasm indirect, he 
 was baulked. Mr. Casswade had evidently awaited 
 it. 
 
 "Ah, there you are," he said, his hand out. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 143 
 
 ** That's where experience comes in again. / 
 shouldn't make any bones about it. The way to 
 do a thing is, to do it. Ain't it? " 
 
 *' Decidedly," confirmed Mr. Shadd. It really 
 began to appear now as if Casswade was about 
 to succeed where others had signally failed — i.e., 
 in gleaning from young Baversham some valuable 
 details as to his mysterious nest-egg, and as to 
 Selina's influence upon its future development. 
 ** Most decidedly. If I had had the benefit of 
 such advice when I began as a shop-keeper, I 
 might be able to offer you gentlemen something 
 stronger than three -and -ninepenny Scotch to- 
 night. George, I don't think you'll need to go 
 consulting any of these swindling solicitors or 
 agents, after all." And Casswade took his 
 cue. 
 
 ** It's banked, I s'pose? " he enquired. " One 
 o' these 'ere local banks ? You wouldn't keep a 
 sum o' money o' that sort lyin' about in a lodgin* 
 house." 
 
 ** It's not a lodgin'-house," George replied, just 
 as casually. ** It's quite private. Selina's seen 
 it. I haven't taken her inside, 'cause I've got no 
 convenience for company, as you might say ; and, 
 again, I thought Mr. Shadd might not like it." 
 
 " I shouldn't," said Mr. Shadd, solemnly. " And 
 I'm glad to know, Baversham, that you have such 
 respect for my dau " 
 
 "Bosh," put in Casswade, with disgust. 
 ** Bosh. She's been inside." 
 
 "Has she?" Mr. Shadd stared towards 
 George. " Is that right? " 
 
 " Ask her," said George, whose reticence could 
 
144 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 not be construed as shy reserve, at all events. 
 And Casswade laughed boisterously. 
 
 *' Course she has. Sit down, you fool ; you 
 dunno what I mean — you've got such a bloomin* 
 evil mind, you have. Wouldn't any natural girl 
 hop in now and again to see her future husband's 
 golden sovereigns all spread out, and tell him what 
 a lovin', careful feller he is, and " 
 
 ** Excuse me," said Mr. Shadd, slowly, *- but 
 George has just told us that his money's safely 
 banked. He's not a miser, hoarding up a few 
 pounds under the bed — at least, I believe not." 
 
 *' Ah, yes, I forgot. But you're all wrong about 
 his bein' able to do without a lawyer. He can't, 
 not in anythin', or he's bound to be dutched by 
 the other man's lawyer. And no matter what it's 
 to be — a bis'ness, investment, marriage settlement, 
 or what not — he couldn't do better than see the 
 one I employ for everythin' — the best in all 
 Barkin', sirs. Remember that I It's all private 
 and confidential there, and no big fees if no re- 
 sults. And I reckon a girl like Selina's worth 
 legal protection, in case of anythin'. Lots o' 
 smart fellers have died the day after ' their 
 weddin*." 
 
 A pause. ** I'll take his name, if you don't 
 mind," George said, then. *' You never know, 
 do you? " 
 
 ** That's sense I " They nodded at each other 
 significantly. " That's sense, if you like," Cass- 
 wade repeated. And he proceeded to scrawl some- 
 thing ponderously upon a slip of paper. " There 
 you are, Mr. — er — Bavercock, ain't it? — I shall 
 never lay hold o' that name. Trust any money 
 
LOW SOCIETY 145 
 
 matter to that man, and he'll lick it into shape in 
 no time, and leave no loophole. That's where 
 the cutest amateur lawyer gets sucked in : his 
 contracts are as full o' loopholes — for the opposite 
 party — as a tuppenny cullender." He drained 
 down his glass of refreshment, evidently ignoring 
 the risk of an aftermath now. It was perfectly 
 astonishing how the situation had veered from 
 storm to calm by imperceptible degrees. 
 ** S'posin', now, you wanted to fly a bit higher, and 
 saw a tasty concern goin' cheap — for two hundred 
 pounds, we'll say, so as to leave a decent margin 
 o' reserve in the bank — eh? " 
 
 '* Yes, we'll say that, for example," George said, 
 without any visible breath -catch. They glanced 
 at each other again. 
 
 ** Right you are ! Two hundred down for the 
 bis'ness, and a hundred in the bank as reserve — 
 that's after you've paid for your furniture and 
 weddin' expenses, I'm assumin', of course? " 
 
 " Oh, of course ! " He had not even flinched 
 or turned red. Mr. Shadd felt he could hug Cass- 
 wade round the neck . 
 
 ** Jest so." Casswade turned to Selina's father, 
 to outline the position with a definite clearness 
 from which Baversham could not retreat. ** Are 
 you followin' us ? Selina's young man, as he says, 
 has a matter o' three hundred clear after buy in' 
 the home, etc. It's not much, but it's somethin* 
 for a start, isn't it? " 
 
 *' Oh, yes 1 " said Mr. Shadd, rising loftily to 
 the occasion. *' It's not as if my daughter was an 
 expensive woman to dress, or anything of that. 
 If, by the time they're made man and wife, George 
 
 L.s. i^ 
 
146 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 can see his way to a round five hundred — or even 
 four hundred, odd — I think they've every hope of 
 happiness in the future. Of course, if it had been 
 anything much below that figure — well, that would 
 be different in a sense, would it not? " 
 
 Both held their breath, and looked away from 
 George this time. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it would," he reflected, with 
 just a hint of dogged resignation to fate that was 
 not altogether to Mr. Shadd's liking. ** Yes, I 
 quite see the force of what you both say. Selina's 
 been brought up in a rather superior style, of 
 course.*' 
 
 " She's never been pinched for a penny, I assure 
 you," said Mr. Shadd. *' No, never." 
 
 " And she won't be that, when she's my wife, I 
 assure you,'' Baversham returned, quietly. He 
 looked at his watch, and then toward the staircase. 
 '* Time's gettin' on, I see. You didn't quite 
 finish that part about workin' up the bis'ness to 
 sell it at a quick profit, did you? " 
 
 " Well, no." Casswade took the pipe from his 
 mouth in surprise. " There's no need. A man 
 with over five hundred to start on wouldn't want 
 to waste hisself on that low-down snatch -and - 
 run game. He'd buy somethin' respectable as a 
 goin' concern for life." 
 
 ** Quite so," said George. " All the same, I'd 
 like to hear — in case. I know you take an in- 
 terest in Selina and me." 
 
 Narrowly Casswade watched, but no muscle 
 twitched in the freckled face. 
 
 '* Well," he had to say, with an indifferent wave 
 of his pipe, ** you can have it in a bloomin' nut- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 147 
 
 shell, come to that. It's my own theory, and any 
 schoolboy could work it out to any extent in prac- 
 tice. You've got a shop-winder, ain't you? — and 
 you've got to draw the crowd, or go under, ain't 
 you? Very well. Do somethin' that no other 
 shopkeeper's do in* in your neighbourhood — 
 Beckton or Barkin' or Timbuctoo, if you like. 
 Make yourself out a fraud and fool, and get talked 
 about, and the thing's done." 
 
 " That's smart," George said, cleverly con- 
 cealing his denseness. ** I like the idea im- 
 mensely. Er — how would you go about it? " 
 
 ** As I say. All shopkeepers live on lies, don't 
 they ? You tell the bloomin' truth — and in swarms 
 your custom, if only jest to look at you. Shadd 
 here — yes, Shadd 1 — bungs a cask o' cheap butter 
 in his winder, and marks it : ' Oh, Ma I — like 
 cream 1 Is that what the German Emp'ror has ?* 
 You mark yours : * The worst muck in Barking — 
 prove it for yourself.' You shove up a sack o' 
 white sugar, and on it a ticket : * Look at this lot 
 — positive bleed'n rubbish — three parts sand ! * 
 This lyin' Shadd here marks his penny eggs * new 
 laid,' and his ha'penny stinkers * fine breakfast.* 
 You don't. You chalk *em up : ' Warranted laid 
 last year — take 'em or leave 'em.* If it's meat, 
 you hang out a decent joint, and ticket it : * Eat 
 off this rotten carcase, and you're a dead man.' 
 If it's fish, you write on your shrimps : * Bloomin* 
 sea scavengers — speak for *emselves ' ; and on 
 your haddicks : * Gawd knows when these were 
 caught — I on'y smoked 'em.' And so on. And 
 there you are. If that ain't plain, I dunno what 
 is." 
 
 L 2 
 
148 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 Following Mr. Shadd's prolonged gasp, there 
 was a pause, while young Baversham sat stroking 
 his chin. Presumably he was compelling a mental 
 picture of a shop with its wares thus labelled, and 
 the scope in language such descriptions offered 
 to a man of ideas. 
 
 •• H'm," he said, at length. "I s*pose it 
 wouldn't do for Mr. Shadd to give it a trial and 
 see how it works — on Selina's future account, as 
 you might say — if it means money? " 
 
 Mr. Shadd stared blankly. Casswade came 
 dexterously to his rescue. 
 
 '* Not on no account. And I'll tell you why. 
 People 'ud instantly up and say he'd done it 
 *cause he couldn't sell his stuff any other way." 
 
 " Well, and mightn't they say the same of 
 me? " queried the obtuse Baversham. 
 
 " Pah I " With a snort of disgust Casswade got 
 up. '* It's no use talkin' to a man like you. 
 Thickest bloomin' head I ever come across, if 
 you'll excuse me. I'm off." 
 
 ** So am I," said George, reaching out for his 
 hat and looking toward the staircase again. 
 
 "I'll call her," Mr. Shadd whispered, loudly 
 enough for Casswade to hear. 
 
 ** G'night," muttered the latter abruptly ; and 
 Mr. Shadd followed him to unlock the shop door. 
 "Well, are you satisfied?" Casswade demanded, 
 as he stepped down to the pavement. " D'you 
 think I've heaped coals o' fire on your bloomin' 
 head, after comin' here to break it ? " 
 
 "'Shi They'll hear. Satisfied?" Shadd 
 wrung his hand with as near an approach to 
 ecstacy as the bit of privacy permitted. " You've 
 
LOW SOCIETY 149 
 
 done it. You're a genius. And I call it won- 
 derful, after the spiteful way they've served you. 
 I shan't forget it. So we know, at least, that he's 
 got between four and five hundred pounds put 
 by — not that I think any more of him as a husband 
 on that account " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " put in Casswade, with his short 
 laugh. " T'other way about, o* course. She 
 don't want any dirty lucre — no more do you. 
 G'night 1 " 
 
 ** When might we see you again? " Mr. Shadd 
 sent after him, in an anxious whisper. 
 
 "When? Ah, I dunno. I shan't say. All 
 depends. Got to see how the wind blows." 
 
 And he moved at a slow, portentous roll down 
 the street. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Despite the fact that the amount of daylight 
 per twenty-four hours was fast lessening, and that 
 many builders pushing their brick-and -mortar ten- 
 tacles out into the Essex wilds had practically 
 suspended operations, work on the New Eden 
 estate proceeded apace. ** Make 'ay while the 
 blessed sun shines," was Mr. Casswade's some- 
 what paradoxical axiom now. He had none of 
 the traditional dread of the frost's action upon 
 his layers of cement ; or, if he had, he sank it 
 in the interests of those who sought to begin 
 life decently by buying a stylish villa at rubbish 
 price. 
 
 All day long the tinkle of trowels and unloading 
 of carts enlivened the monotony of the grey days 
 in Mandalay Gardens. And late at night, fre- 
 quently, the dull banging of a hammer indicated 
 that Josh, the foreman, with nine children to 
 rear, was putting in a spell of lonely overtime. 
 
 To Hungerford's Ella, when she sat at her 
 needlework in the bijou back bedroom, the mush- 
 room-like growth of that row of houses beyond 
 her rear fence was at once fascinating and awe- 
 some. The stark walls rose from their founda- 
 tions with a swiftness that, hard as she tried to 
 force it, would not convey an impression of sta- 
 bility or endurance. The moving figures of Cass- 
 wade's workmen, as they mounted higher and 
 
LOW SOCIETY 151 
 
 higher toward her own level and above it, did not 
 suggest any especial celerity or enthusiasm ; they 
 often halted, indeed, to take leisurely survey of 
 the " washing " blown about in gardens below, 
 and to shout to each other criticisms of a frankness 
 that made Ella's cheeks burn. Nevertheless, the 
 scaffolding levels rose as by magic ; a second 
 wall reared itself upon the lower ; in a few days, 
 as it seemed, the outer shell of something with a 
 minimum existence of ninety - nine years had 
 evolved itself out of nothingness. 
 
 The whole process, in the concrete and in the 
 abstract, had a magnetism for Hungerford's Ella 
 which she could not have analysed. For the 
 greater part of each day, now, she was alone, and 
 this rear outlook was her horizon — gradually being 
 blotted out. As she sewed, she thought and 
 thought ; and into some subjects a woman's 
 thoughts go deeper than a man's. 
 
 Sometimes she found her lip quivering un- 
 accountably, an odd choke after choke rising 
 unawares in her throat, and thrills running down 
 her body. Nothing could explain it save the fact 
 that she was one of the women who must cling 
 always to someone stronger than themselves, and 
 to whom even temporary loneliness suggests the 
 parting that at one day must come. And then she 
 would pretend to have lost her needle, and hunt for 
 it diligently, and smile to herself as she pictured 
 Jim seated behind some high desk away there in 
 the City. She could see him, working with a 
 quiet stubbornness, and looking up at the clock at 
 times, and running those long white fingers 
 through the precious dark wave of hair above his 
 
152 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 forehead. ** God bless him ! — God bring him 
 home safe again ! " she would say ; and then the 
 silly tears would come with a rush, and she had to 
 slip down to her knees, and thank God for His 
 abundant mercy in allowing her Hungerf ord the 
 power to love and to understand which had been 
 taken from Loney out there. It was selfish, and 
 it was illogical ; but it was very human. And the 
 dearest and truest of women are those who are 
 very human. 
 
 Sometimes Ella was a mere child — a child 
 thinking in the night. What would happen, she 
 asked herself, when the array of new houses out 
 there was complete in every detail ? 
 
 Casswade had given out that he should build no 
 more for a long time to come : not until there 
 were signs of a trade revival and a reduction in 
 the price of raw material — which time, he said, 
 looked like being deferred until the millennium, as 
 all the floating cash was passing into the hands 
 of a few Trusts and millionaires. What would 
 become of Loney? For she knew, without know- 
 ing why, that by some queer mental process Loney 
 had become absorbed in the construction of that 
 particular block as in a work that was to go on 
 for ever. He was, she told herself, a visionary 
 who saw his dream-palaces taking actual shape ; 
 every golden brick, every silver nail, every glit- 
 tering chip, called for his nightly, unrelaxed 
 guardianship. 
 
 This implied that he took his sleep by day. Did 
 he ? And where ? And how did he exist ? Ella 
 had woven about him a mesh of feminine fancies 
 that to her had become as living facts. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 153 
 
 Occasionally, now, he made an appearance in 
 the daytime. It was in the nature of a surprise 
 visit, stealthily conceived and triumphantly carried 
 out. He appeared as from nowhere, his hands 
 clasped behind him, his head thrown back to 
 gauge in a series of swift glances any dereliction 
 of duty, slipshod workmanship, or flaw in the 
 masonry ; but Ella had made him out standing 
 tentatively still beforehand behind some wall 
 or fence near at hand. Up and down he would 
 walk, peering here, feeling there, and standing 
 back to see the effect in perspective of the 
 whole. 
 
 Just occasionally Casswade's workmen turned to 
 look at him, but for the most part they appeared 
 to her singularly indifferent. Once, indeed, she 
 had seen him stride toward a man mixing mortar, 
 and appear to identify himself with the actual 
 operations. She could catch none of his words, 
 but he seemed to be gesturing with an air of fierce, 
 strenuous authority, as one whose policy of aloof- 
 ness and clemency had been abused. The man — 
 so it looked to her — gazed back at him with mute 
 stupefaction, retreated a little as in fear, and then 
 went in search of Josh, the foreman. She could 
 hear nothing of what passed, but on the surface it 
 appeared that Josh merely nodded, smiled his 
 ghastly little inward smile, and walked away as if 
 not concerned to interfere. Meanwhile, Loney re- 
 sumed his tour of inspection, outwardly detached 
 from the scene, but inwardly absorbed by thoughts 
 concerning its future that no one else could hope 
 to share. 
 
 So it happened to-day. The fourth house rising 
 
154 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 as by wizardry under the workmen's hands was 
 almost abreast of Hungerford's garden — her own 
 garden. She lowered her needlework, and sat, 
 with parted lips and shining eyes, watching once 
 again. Once again she seemed to be reading a 
 deep interpretation into trivial byplay that to other 
 people was meaningless. 
 
 Chink -chink 1 went the many trowels. Bang- 
 bang ! boomed hammers. Crash ! came down a 
 pile of flooring-boards moved out of someone's 
 way. Over the skeleton roof of the first house 
 three men were crawling like huge spiders, nailing 
 on slates. In the hollow heart of the second 
 house a white -smocked man swung himself at a 
 rope-end from window-ledge to window-ledge, to 
 save himself the trouble of descending. A boy, 
 carrying paint - pots and whistling vociferously, 
 walked to and fro with the apparent object of 
 appearing busy. The men on the fourth shell 
 clapped brick on to brick with monotonous regu- 
 larity and the minimum modicum of mortar and 
 energy ; while on the far left of the site, as if 
 praying that no wind would spring up and blow 
 down the walls before a sixth house arose to hold 
 them in position, stood Casswade himself, just 
 recognizable at this distance. Josh, his foreman, 
 moved laconically in and out of the carpenters' 
 shed that he had erected against his own garden 
 fence, so that he could toss into safety without 
 fuss all the chunks of timber that looked useful 
 for firewood or other private purposes. 
 
 Ella's veering, watchful gaze came back to 
 focus anew the speck of mystery in all this most 
 prosaic environment. It was Loney, neatly garbed 
 
LOW SOCIETY 155 
 
 as ever, moving from bare room to room on the 
 new lower floors, just as a visitor to a museum 
 might move from section to section. Following 
 up her woman's train of fanciful deductions, she 
 assured herself that Mr. Casswade, comparatively- 
 far off as he stood, had an eye upon Loney, too ; 
 and in this connection it occurred to her that, as 
 she had never seen the two men in close proxi- 
 mity, it was Casswade who purposely — perhaps 
 scornfully — maintained the distance. Ella had 
 never spoken of it to the neighbours — partly be- 
 cause she regarded the subject as something 
 vaguely, darkly pitiful, and partly because the 
 neighbours appeared far more interested in the 
 private doings of herself and her husband. 
 
 The blue of approaching dusk was in the west. 
 She laid by her work on an impulse, went down- 
 stairs, and took her way slowly down the garden 
 path. At the end was a pile of stones, overgrown 
 with weeds : mounted on this, she might gain a 
 closer view of the man and his method, if only 
 for a moment. If scarcely dignified, it was 
 scarcely mean. 
 
 To disarm neighbourly curiosity, she paused to 
 scan the patch which Hungerford had really 
 cleared, dug and pulverized by herculean efforts. 
 With deplorable horticultural instincts, he had 
 showered in two rows of flower-seeds for next 
 Spring's blossoming, and between these, barely 
 two inches apart, a brave array of small cabbage - 
 plants, believed to be broccoli — a hundred in all, 
 or sufficient to stock half an acre of ground. 
 The flower-seeds, he averred, were to throw off 
 fine showy masses of spiked bloom of a tropical 
 
156 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 luxuriance — or should do so, according to the 
 printed specimen ; but of tlieir appearance above- 
 ground there was as yet no visible sign. Ella 
 stooped with a little cry of dismay toward the 
 cabbage -plants. 
 
 ** Oh, Boy ! " she said, instantly summoning 
 him to her side in thought. The leaves were 
 nearly all gone — nibbled away. " Oh, our beau- 
 tiful broccoli I What shall we do?" 
 
 She looked closely, indignantly, for the nibbling 
 thieves, but could see no trace of them. There 
 were the denuded stalks, sticking up pathetically 
 toward the sky. What could it mean? 
 
 Looking round as for inspiration, she caught 
 sight of something that temporarily obliterated 
 the tragedy of the cabbages. This was the 
 tragedy in a woman's face — the wan, careworn 
 face, three gardens lower down, of the woman 
 employed by Casswade to clean down the new 
 houses in readiness for tenants. Seeing nothing, 
 caring nothing, this woman had come staggering 
 out at the rear to empty one of her eternal pails 
 of dirty water. 
 
 " Poor soul I " Ella said to herself, wistfully. 
 She had said it often before to-day. 
 
 She stood awhile, listening to the intermittent 
 boom from the practice -guns away across the river, 
 and then flitted suddenly back indoors. To be 
 able to do something unexpected for somebody, 
 and see the glad wonder, gave Hungerford's Ella 
 as much real delight as finding a sovereign in 
 the street ; and the feminine mind in doubt in- 
 variably flies to a cup of hot tea. Within ten 
 minutes she had a small jugful prepared, wrapped 
 
LOW SOCIETY 157 
 
 it in a snowy cloth, piA on her hat, and slipped 
 from the front door. 
 
 " Where are you? " she called, peering into the 
 shadowy depths of Number Thirteen. "' Where 
 are you? " And the sound of a scrubbing-brush 
 was suspended. 
 
 '* Who's that? " called back a quavering, life- 
 less voice. 
 
 " Only me," said Ella, making her way to the 
 rear parlour — no, the dining-room. " How are 
 you to-day ? I saw you were hard at work, and 
 hurrying ; so I brought you in a nice cup of tea." 
 
 '* Lord save us !" muttered the woman, kneeling 
 back. It was already semi -dark in here, and Ella 
 could hardly see her face. " You're the lady at 
 Number Nine, aren't you? This for me?" She 
 took it eagerly. " I never expected nothin' till 
 past eight o'clock to-night." 
 
 "I'm so sorry," whispered Ella, standing still 
 and looking down at her. ** Have you so much 
 more to do ? " 
 
 " I've done all the upstairs and the winders, "- 
 said the woman, pushing the thin hair back from 
 her eyes. ** I must finish the downstairs and 
 some o' the paint before I go. You don't mind 
 me keepin' on, ma'am ; I don't want to burn the 
 candle more'n I can help." 
 
 " Oh, no— no ! .... Oh, isn't it dreadful ! "■ 
 Ella said, half to herself, as she watched the bony 
 arm going to and fro over boards into which 
 workmen's feet had ground mortar and mud in 
 layers, and thought of a life spent in doing it . 
 
 "I'm s 'posed to be lucky, ma'am, to get the 
 work," panted the woman. ** I shouldn't, only 
 
158 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 my husban* dropped from a scafifold— before the 
 Compensation Act come in. There's a stool in 
 the corner, ma'am ; you needn't stand." 
 
 "Your husband?" repeated Ella, quiveringly. 
 
 Swish-swish-swish, went the brush over the 
 awful boards. This room was one of the tiny 
 squares which went to make up the whole vast 
 mosaic of Life. The woman, pausing only at 
 times to dash back her hair, had lost every soft, 
 womanly curve from her shape — spoke and moved, 
 indeed, as if she had forgotten she was a woman. 
 
 ** Light your candle," Ella said. " I will bring 
 you in one of my own." 
 
 She did so, and rested a moment. 
 
 ** Yes, Mr. Casswade's reckoned as good as they 
 make 'em," she said, dully, looking into space. 
 ** He lets me do all his houses for three shillings. 
 He could get hundreds to do it for two -and -nine. 
 On'y sometimes I get that dead-beat I don't know 
 what I'm doin', and dazed in the empty rooms, 
 and forget all about my food, and can only just 
 stagger back home into Barking — to another empty 
 room — another empty room ! " 
 
 She gave a hollow cry that might have been 
 meant for either a laugh or a sob, and swooped 
 again to her scrubbing. Ella, in awe, had thought 
 she was about to fall forward in collapse. 
 
 " Yes," Ella went on hurriedly, for the sake of 
 saying something cheery. ** I think most people 
 like Mr. Casswade, although he appears a little 
 — blunt. My husband does, for one." 
 
 " Ah I " said the woman, her bent head swaying 
 doggedly with her brush. ** Ah !" she said, again. 
 Exactly what she meant, was not to be known. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 159 
 
 The tea had been drunk. Yet Ella felt con- 
 strained by some sort of sympathy to linger, 
 moving a little from time to time as the black 
 ooze eddied to her feet. Presently the woman 
 threw back her head and gave a sharp, deep 
 cough on one note — like the sudden ripping of a 
 new calico sheet. 
 
 " Oh I " Ella breathed. But the woman had 
 gone on with her work. Only in this moment, 
 inconsequently enough, Ella grasped the inner 
 meaning of the truism that we begin to die the 
 moment we are born. 
 
 Ella was aware suddenly of outer silence. The 
 clink of trowels and thud of hammers out there 
 had ceased. In a mere few minutes, it seemed, 
 the darkness had closed in, and already the candle 
 light gave the room and their two figures a fan- 
 tastic, Rembrandt -like appearance. The voice of 
 a man in the roadway behind, proclaiming that he 
 had lily-white celery, fit for a king, sounded quite 
 out of place. Ella, in the November twilight, 
 had often to pause to realize that the flare and 
 hubbub of Barking Town lay quite close at 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes, he's there still — I can see him," Ella 
 said, to herself. Then, on one of her quick im- 
 pulses, she craned down toward the woman. 
 " What is he really? Who is he? Have you ever 
 heard ? Loney ! ** 
 
 The woman's brush came to a halt. She did 
 not look up. "Don't you know?'' she asked, 
 in dull surprise. 
 
 "Know? I have never liked to ask anyone — 
 until now." 
 
i6o LOW SOCIETY 
 
 "That he's mad?" 
 
 " Yes, they told me that. But " 
 
 *' And dumb. '11 never speak again." 
 
 " Dumb ! " 
 
 " He had a stroke. I thought everyone knew 
 that much." The woman sat back, shaking her 
 cloth thoughtfully. ** You wouldn't think he'd 
 been a rich man — richer far than Casswade — 
 would you? " she mused. ** But he was, not two 
 years ago. Those were all his houses, you know, 
 right out over there." She pointed out into the 
 night vaguely. " This buildin', you know, has 
 made some men, and ruined a lot more. He got 
 the craze, started runnin' 'em up in rows, and 
 was lettin' 'em so fast he pushed up whole 
 streets of 'em. Then someone started a rumour, 
 and spread it." 
 
 " Who? " breathed Ella, thrilled without know- 
 ing why. 
 
 ** No one knows that. P'r'aps another builder 
 who'd got jealous. You mustn't say. There's a 
 lot of ins -and -outs, I've heard. He couldn't * let * 
 'em, of a sudden, and it happened he couldn't 
 pay all his men one day for want o' ready money, 
 rich as he was. That did it — you'd be surprised 
 what a little thing it takes to do it. Just say the 
 word * drains,' for instance, as if you'd heard 
 somethin', and it flies all over the place. Any- 
 way, his nerves gave way a bit, as I've heard, and 
 the houses got a * haunted ' look. It was the talk 
 for miles — talk o' suicide, bankruptcy, and all 
 manner. Someone was rollin' the ball for him, 
 that's certain. Then his own agents started to 
 cheat him, and took the wrong sort o' tenants. 
 
LOW SOCIETY i6i 
 
 These houses won't stand a lot o' noisy men and 
 women fightin' and what not in 'em night after 
 night. Besides, the Council come down on him. 
 Somehow, he lost heart and went * broke to the 
 
 world/ as they say Yes, when he got 
 
 up from his bed, he was dumb, and his mind had 
 gone." 
 
 "Had he a wife?" Ella whispered, in the 
 brief pause. 
 
 ** No ; but a mother. Ain't you ever seen her? 
 She comes now and then with his food, when he 
 forgets to go home. Quite a lady in her way — 
 as he was a gentleman. Yes, you'll see her 
 watchin' him here late at night. He doesn't 
 know her, or doesn't want to know her, and takes 
 the food as a dog might, and she bursts out 
 cryin', and goes away. That's the funny part of 
 it." The woman shifted cramped limbs, and bent 
 slowly to her boards again. " Casswade used to 
 pay a night watchman, but Loney saves him that 
 now. Even the boys don't come tryin' to steal 
 wood and stuff, as they used to. No one takes 
 any notice now ; he does just what he likes. But, 
 as I say, that's, the funny part of it." 
 
 "What is?" 
 
 ** Why " — she turned to dash back her hair and 
 motion out through the window beyond — " when 
 he got up, he'd forgotten all 'cept the one thing — 
 that he'd begun on a new block o' villas himself, 
 just as the one you're lookin' at might be. The 
 first time he came out of doors, he saw Casswade 's 
 fresh start there ; and he's hardly left it since. 
 What can anyone say or do ? He thinks they^re 
 hlsr 
 
 L.S. M 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ** Some men are ever so much more affectionate 
 than others, don't you think? " observed Selina 
 Shadd, with another twist of the small handker- 
 chief she invariably plucked and pulled between 
 her hands when out walking. 
 
 ** I do think/' was Baversham's non-committal 
 reply. " If you go a bit farther, you'll notice some 
 men are dark and some ginger ; and some are all 
 right and some are rotters. You'll make a rabbit 
 o' that blessed handkerchief soon." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that exactly ; and you know 
 it. Only you're so " 
 
 She set her lips and gave the handkerchief quite 
 a spiteful tug. It was not so much that she re- 
 sented George's limitations in grammar and style ; 
 but his inability or refusal to put on a spice of the 
 grand manner even when they passed down Bark- 
 ing's crowded streets — to say nothing of his prac- 
 tical and cautious restraint upon himself when they 
 were, as now, in the partial obscurity of the field- 
 land beyond — certainly constituted a standing 
 grievance. Selina, albeit reared in Barking Town, 
 had expected in her own lover at least a touch of 
 the courtly romance exhaled by novels wherein 
 men with a daffodil -like droop of the head leaned 
 over willowy women in languorous warmth and 
 grace. And Baversham seemed never even to 
 have heard of it. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 163 
 
 " Well, go on," he said. " Out with it." 
 
 '* What I mean is, that some men are not afraid 
 to show, either in public or private, just what they 
 feel. It only struck me, that's all. It doesn't 
 matter to me in the least." 
 
 " Some men aren't afraid, I admit," said 
 George, with a little heave of his shoulders — 
 perhaps thinking of young Sanders. ** Some '11 
 show jest what they feel anyhow and anywhere, 
 and then do a bolt. Yes, I know the sort you 
 mean. We can all come that caper, if we want. 
 That sort never marry." 
 
 Selina flicked him over the lips with the hand- 
 kerchief, half playfully, half scornfully. 
 
 " It doesn't matter what I say," she remarked, 
 ** you always seem to take up a nasty opposite 
 view. At least, you've always got a back-hander 
 ready. I don't know what some women would 
 think of you for a lover — at least, I do know." 
 
 ** What do you want me to do ? " he was stung 
 to asking, pointedly. " Keep kissin* you every 
 step we take, or what? If I'm a fool, I don't 
 want to look it. I've had my arm round you this 
 last ten minnits — isn't that enough?" 
 
 Apparently it was too much — or else Selina 
 had been unconscious of the familiarity. With a 
 stiffening movement she abruptly withdrew from 
 the coil. In so doing, she overstepped the edge 
 of the narrow path through marshy land along 
 which they were sauntering, and her right foot 
 sank well over the ankle into something with 
 an octopus -like power of suction. Selina stood 
 desperately still, and waited, her face flaming 
 orange colour and then going pale. It said 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 plainly that if he had not at least sufficient gal- 
 lantry to extricate her without being asked, in 
 that position she would end her days. 
 
 ** Silly I " said George, pulling at her abruptly, 
 and then lifting her skirt. " That's a bit o' 
 temper, that is. You've spoilt a good boot." 
 
 " Oh, I've plenty more at home," she replied, 
 biting her lip to keep back anything like a sob. 
 ** You won't have to pay for it. Leave my dress 
 alone, please." 
 
 " Well, I didn't want to come this way, did 
 I?" he hedged. 
 
 " Did I ? " Selina flashed back. 
 
 ** Well, I dunno ; but we always do seem to 
 come this way, lately, don't we? " 
 
 *' You're a pig, as I told you once before," she 
 said, burstingly. " Keep away I You're not a 
 man at all, but a cold pig." 
 
 "Oh, am I?" George drew up obediently. 
 ** Then I'd better turn round and get back to my 
 stye, if that's the case." 
 
 '* Go 1 " she shouted. '* Yes, go ! " A man 
 in a derelict barge in a waterway near by held 
 his breath in hopes of witnessing something really 
 exciting. 
 
 He was cheated — maybe through Baversham's 
 very lack of romantic amour pro pre. As Selina 
 flounced on ahead, tugging at her handkerchief, 
 George squared his shoulders and went after her. 
 Apparently Selina did not hear him coming. She 
 looked dumbfounded to find her waist suddenly 
 enclosed again. Realizing, she made a strenuous 
 effort to tear the arm away ; but George seldom 
 allowed things to become downright dramatic. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 165 
 
 ** Let it alone/' he said, masterfully. ** Let it 
 alone, and don't be silly. You're jest like a 
 woman, 'pon my word, you are." 
 
 '* Very good." Selina's voice would just sound. 
 It was really a tight and affectionate clutch this 
 time. *' As you will. But — but one of these days 
 you may call me back too late." 
 
 ** I like that," he replied, unmoved. ** I haven't 
 called you back. You called me somethin' — that's 
 all I know about it. And thank your stars you 
 didn't mean it, and can't help showin' off now and 
 again, like all the women." 
 
 ** We — we'll quarrel, if you wish," Selina said, 
 gaspingly. And George laughed. 
 
 " You mean, you'd like to, for a change ; but 
 I'm not goin* to let you. Don't forget this : if 
 it's * off ' between us once — only once — it's * off ' 
 for evermore. I don't come any snivellin' and 
 moanin' outside your father's door." 
 
 "No I Not having any heart to feel, it's all 
 the same to you whether you marry a real woman 
 or a slut, so long as your meals are got and your 
 clothes strung together somehow." 
 
 " It's nothin' o' that," said George. Selina, 
 as regarded reality, was what is known as a fine, 
 blooming girl, all curve and contour, beside whom 
 her young man had a flat, weedy, almost insigni- 
 ficant appearance ; but he held on with a grim 
 tenacity that atoned for much. '* It's simply that 
 I look on marriage as a bis'ness arrangement 
 quite as much as a spoonin' and kiddin' affair ; 
 and you might jest as well know it first as last. 
 Some men 'ud tell you you're a rose, on'y jest to 
 be touched and kissed ; but I'd sooner handle a 
 
1 66 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 good vegetable myself, any day. And there you 
 are.** 
 
 It was not flattering on the surface. Neverthe- 
 less it had a noticeable effect. Selina subsided by 
 degrees, and soon was leaning quite languidly and 
 contentedly again. One chance word of his, in 
 fact, had seemed to pave the way for an under- 
 standing which, it had been decided in George's 
 absence, ought by now to be well in sight. 
 
 " Well, yes," she owned, presently, her head 
 drooped, ** I don't say but what it must come to a 
 business arrangement in the long run — perhaps 
 before. I didn't tell you, did I? — Father's think- 
 ing of giving up his own, and retiring somewhere. 
 It might be at any minute now.*' 
 
 ** Oh I " said George, genuinely surprised. 
 " There's a good many minnits to come, ain't 
 there? What's he goin' to live on? " 
 
 " On his money, of course," Selina replied, 
 bridling. ** The same as we should do some day, 
 I suppose — at least, I hope." 
 
 -* H'm I Well, I must say I can^t see him doin* 
 anythin' o' the kind — not in my mind, at any rate." 
 
 ** Make me out a liar," she whispered. '' There 
 are a lot of things your mind can't see, perhaps." 
 
 " Includin' what?" asked George, taking off 
 his bowler hat and looking inside it, as if he could 
 see something in that. 
 
 " Never mind. He's thinking of doing so, in 
 three rooms somewhere ; that's all I heard. 
 Whether he thinks I'm going out as a lady's maid 
 — and whether he thinks of selling the shop or just 
 leaving it as it is — I don't pretend to know." 
 
 ** No," said George, with encouragement ; '* and 
 
LOW SOCIETY 167 
 
 ril lay odds of ninepence to a stick o' rhubub he 
 don't pretend to know hisself ." 
 
 She looked away, her underlip submitting to 
 another bite. But George had unwittingly left 
 her another narrow opening. 
 
 " It's the first time I knew you betted," she re- 
 marked, coldly. 
 
 " Go on ! " George said, so quietly derisive that 
 she jumped to the objective instead of feeling her 
 way. 
 
 •* Well, what do you do with all your money? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 "Do with my money? Don't I have to live, 
 and buy clothes — and other things? " 
 
 " That's not what I meant. Do be serious for 
 once, now we're together. You've got other 
 money, that you don't have to live upon, or that 
 you're not supposed to be frittering — as very likely 
 you are, for what we know," she added, drawing 
 the softest quivering breath. 
 
 ** Well, I'm " Baversham drew himself up 
 
 just in time, and whistled instead. " I dunno 
 whether you know it, but we've run right into a 
 fog," he said. 
 
 This was true. A mere half hour ago, in the 
 sky ahead had lain a broad wing of dull gold 
 tipped with crimson, and the expanse of flat grass- 
 land with its reed - fringed ditch - banks, stray 
 barges and waterways, and air of stagnant soli- 
 tude — as typical of this part of Essex by London 
 as it is of Dutch landscape — had been visible 
 for miles around. Now all was obliterated by a 
 shroud of vapour. The change was one to disturb 
 a girl in Selina's position. But 3elina declined 
 
1 68 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 to evince even annoyance, and moved recklessly 
 onwards. 
 
 ** For one thing/' she said, as George lit 
 another cigarette, " you're spending a lot lately 
 on tobacco." 
 
 *' Threepenny packet a day," he admitted,-; 
 lightly. 
 
 " That's — that's one -and -six a week," she cried, 
 luckily forgetting Sundays in her determina- 
 tion to nail him down to something definite. 
 ** What else? I want to know — I'm going 
 to know." 
 
 ** What else ? " He started to tick off the items 
 on his fingers. ** Food, clothes, baths, cards, 
 clubs, theatres, women, wine " 
 
 Selina turned and knocked off his hat. " Take 
 that," she said ; '* and just be careful what you're 
 saying. You — a man of the world — bah 1 " 
 
 "Well, you asked for it, didn't you?" Un- 
 abashed, he picked up the hat. " Some men 'ud 
 tell you you're pryin' into private affairs that don't 
 concern you — yet." And Selina came to a pause, 
 drawn back. 
 
 ** Oh, am I?" she asked. "That's news. I 
 thought, when a young man took a girl out and 
 gave her a ring, he meant that his private affairs 
 were to be hers. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps 
 you never thought of really marrying, and are only 
 laughing at us all and amusing your spare time. 
 Perhaps," she ran breathlessly on, unable to pick 
 and choose phrases in that suppressed tremble, 
 ** perhaps you have no money other than what you 
 stand up in? In that case " 
 
 " Yes, what about it ? " he said, eyeing her with 
 
LOW SOCIETY 169 
 
 an attempt at indifference in the pause. " Td like 
 to hear." 
 
 '* Then — you shan't." She set her teeth with a 
 snap. 
 
 *' I see," he answered slowly. ** Perhaps I shall 
 yet." 
 
 There was a long silence, while George puffed 
 at his small white tube as if quite willing that a 
 crisis should occur here and now ; and Selina stood 
 with tightly-clenched hands, staring down at the 
 ground. At last George said, very quietly : 
 
 •' Selina 1 " 
 
 She looked up, with blank eyes. ** I'm going 
 home," she gasped. "Where are we?" 
 
 Baversham glanced around. 
 
 ** Heaven knows," he said ; "I don't. It all 
 looks one now, don't it? " 
 
 " Take me home," choked Selina, stamping* 
 her foot. " You brought me here, now take me 
 out of it." 
 
 For once Baversham, although he screwed up 
 his eyes a little oddly, allowed feminine incon- 
 sistency to have its way. In point of fact, he 
 knew less about this particular locality than did 
 Selina. 
 
 ** Home it is," he said, pacifically. ** But I 
 don't say when you'll get there, or where we shall 
 come out. I ain't goin' back along that narrer 
 path ; we'd never do it. I'm goin' to keep round 
 to the left here, and we ought to come back into 
 the tram-road somewhere. Hold my arm." 
 
 She did. In fact, she leaned heavily upon him, 
 with unnerving little sobs. " Oh, George, you've 
 been extra cruel to-night," she said. 
 
I70 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 '* No, I ain't," he replied, not unkindly. *- But 
 I'm quick, if slow ; and now and again lately I've 
 been made to fancy — there, let it drop for now. 
 You'll have to hold up a bit, dear ; I'm half over 
 the edge o' this canal, or whatever it is ; and it 
 looks bloomin' black and deep." 
 
 " You can leave me and go on, if I hamper 
 you," she wailed. She had dropped the handker- 
 chief somewhere, and had nothing to vent her 
 emotions upon. ** I don't care where I'm found, 
 or how I'm found — no ! " 
 
 " Rot," said Baversham, simply. He came to 
 another pause, to try and see through the fog, and 
 then drew her on again. -^ *' I've forgotten which 
 way the blessed left did lay now," he ad- 
 mitted. ** We're all right if it comes on pitch 
 dark as well, and you with them Sunday 
 clothes on. Why wouldn't your Saturday ones 
 do?" 
 
 ** Because — because," she sobbed, *- 1 thought 
 you liked to be proud of me, when you did take 
 me out. And this is the end of it 1 " 
 
 " The end mostly comes of the beginning," 
 George quietly reminded her, with more wisdom 
 than he knew. ** Hold up I — we're walkin' in 
 water — right in I " 
 
 They retraced their steps a little way. The 
 place was a spongy labyrinth of pitfalls, with only 
 a negotiable path here and there at this season. 
 There was some visible sweat on George's fore- 
 head as they halted again. Selina took his hand- 
 kerchief and wiped the forehead. 
 
 *' I do love you, and you know it," she cried, 
 softly ; ** only, you're so silly and headstrong 
 
LOW SOCIETY 171 
 
 and suspicious. Put your arms round my neck, 
 as any other man would do ; and then I shan't 
 mind whether I ever get home or not." 
 
 *' You mean it? " 
 
 ** Do I mean it ? " She drew him to her crush- 
 ingly. ** I only want you to be happy and kind 
 — you know it." 
 
 " That's all very well," George said, getting his 
 breath. ** You do, but I'm not so sure about 
 others ; and I'd like to be ... . Don't be silly, 
 and lose your head, now, and blame it on to me I " 
 He kissed her, and put her gently away. It wasi 
 true that, compared with many of his sex, he 
 might have been termed a cold-blooded affair. 
 *' We've got to move, and no mistake — it's comin* 
 dark. Vm goin' to get home, somehow or other. 
 Let's step it out, and chance it." 
 
 It was an heroic proposal in the circumstances, 
 but Selina obviously cared nothing just now 
 whether it ended in the river itself. They stepped 
 out at random ; and by so doing they were vouch- 
 safed precisely the curious good fortune which' 
 attends the drunken man in a line of traffic. Over 
 and over again George shot back from a treacher- 
 ous gully of ooze just in time ; and over and over 
 again Selina tripped as without caring over some 
 obstacle, with only a little more damage each time 
 to her Sunday outfit. It was George, and not 
 she, who really grasped that something in the 
 form of a miracle had happened when at length, 
 holding her to a standstill, he made out in the 
 sodden silence the muffled clang-clang of a distant 
 electric -car bell. 
 
 "There," he said. "Now you ought to be 
 
172 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 grateful that I didn't have to explain keepin* 
 you out all night. And you're not." 
 
 Selina said nothing. Possibly she thought the 
 more. Her oneness with George, despite the 
 tragic hour on the marshes which should have 
 cemented and made it sacredly binding upon both, 
 was as much in the air as ever. 
 
 " I seem to know this," George said. ** Yes, 
 it is — we've come out jest where I thought we 
 might at first. It's Casswade's estate, 'pon my 
 word." 
 
 ** I don't care who or what it is," Selina replied, 
 lifelessly. 
 
 *' Half a minute, though." George halted. ** I 
 think we're goin' the wrong way — away from the 
 tram-road into Barkin', I mean. How do the 
 house-numbers go? — Can you see anythin' of 
 Casswade's box? " 
 
 " Curse Casswade," Selina said, with a rare and 
 inexplicable burst of feeling that heralded hysteria. 
 And George actually laughed. 
 
 ** Well, I don't mind your doing that for 
 once," he said. *' I've done it myself. But all 
 the same, where are we ? " 
 
 Straining forward, he ran into someone heavily. 
 It was another man. Both drew back ; and then 
 Baversham, in real relief, shot out his hand. 
 
 *' Well, I never — that beats all ! Excuse me, 
 won't you ? Thought our last hour had come, me 
 and my young lady here. We got caught in the 
 fog comin' across the marshes. Look at us — 
 that '11 prove it 1 " 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 The hand was taken and gripped. It was Jim 
 Hungerford, just entering the gateway at Number 
 Nine. He looked from one to the other in his 
 quiet, concerned way, and lifted his hat to Selina. 
 Before he could answer verbally, the door beyond 
 opened and let out a flood of light. It framed 
 Ella, who had heard the voice and perhaps sus- 
 pected a footpad. 
 
 "What is it, Jim? " Ella enquired, anxiously. 
 Catching sight of a woman's still figure, she ran 
 forward. " Oh, it's you I " They had passed 
 Baversham and his young woman two or three 
 times in Barking streets since that first chance 
 meeting, and never forgotten to nod and smile. 
 ** Oh, I see I " she whispered, as Hungerford said 
 something quietly to her alone. She turned at 
 once to Selina, who was far removed from giggling 
 enigmatically at the pavement on this occasion. 
 
 *• My dear, you look quite ill and — and " She 
 
 did not care to finish. Selina's skirts, originally 
 light - hued, conveyed a wealth of meaning to 
 another woman's eyes. 
 
 " That's how I've got to take her home," Baver- 
 sham laughed, not too comfortable himself. 
 
 Ella looked at her Hungerford. He looked 
 back at her. These two seldom needed to speak, 
 to grasp a situation and interpret a mutual 
 impulse . 
 
174 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 Without a word, Ella took Selina firmly by the 
 arm. Selina resisted, then gave way with a choke, 
 and allowed herself to be drawn through and 
 into a warm, beautiful kitchen. 
 
 ** You might have wiped your boots," Baver- 
 sham felt bound to remark. But luckily Selina 
 did not hear this ; or the wild -cat that is thought 
 to lie dormant in every woman might have leaped 
 out at him. 
 
 " Certainly, come along in," Hungerford said 
 to him in turn. The fact that he rather liked 
 young Baversham for his frank naturalness had 
 nothing to do with it. And the door closed behind 
 them. " Feel quite at home here, for as long as 
 you choose." And he led the way into the little 
 rear parlour — no, dining-room. This was tactful, 
 as all sorts of queer, muffled sounds were coming 
 now from the kitchen. 
 
 ** Rum lot, women," Baversham said apologe- 
 tically, as he sat down and looked around. " Still, 
 I'm goin' to say I reckon this very kind and un- 
 expected of you, Mr. Hungerford. I do I " 
 
 Hungerford smiled. He had white teeth, very 
 dark eyes, and a peculiarly sunny smile that Baver- 
 sham had not forgotten. *' So you know my 
 name," he said. And Baversham flushed ever so 
 slightly. 
 
 ** Ah, yes, funny how I knew that 1 Oh, I know 
 — I happened to overhear it when — er — when I 
 heard you were takin' one o' Casswade's houses," 
 he explained. 
 
 ** I see. By the way, weren't you thinking of 
 taking one of them yourself?" 
 
 "Well, yes, I was," George owned. "But 
 
LOW SOCIETY 175 
 
 I'm a devil for not bein' able to make up my own 
 mind, if you understand me. And that's why, I 
 fancy," he tacked on quickly, with a touch of 
 cunning, ** Mr. Cass wade and I haven't exactly 
 * hit it ' together lately — as you had to notice, I 
 believe." 
 
 ** That Saturday evening? Well, to tell you the 
 truth " — he smiled again — ** I took no notice / 
 He's a quaint old fellow, but good at heart and 
 well-meaning, from all I have seen of him." 
 
 " Oh, quite so," said Baversham. " See much 
 of him, do you? " he added, with the airy indiffer- 
 ence that, secretly, much amused the other 
 man. 
 
 '* Well, no," Hungerford remembered. ** I 
 don't think I have spoken with him for some 
 weeks. And that must remind me again : I don't 
 know what he thinks, but I made him promise a 
 long time ago that he and Mrs. Casswade would 
 come in to us for an hour some evening. I've 
 never referred to it since." 
 
 ** Forgotten it, I expect," Baversham said, after 
 a pause, during which he had sat with a fixed, 
 puzzled stare on his freckly face. 
 
 Hungerford suddenly sprang up and produced 
 refreshment. The sounds from the kitchen had 
 abated considerably. '* Little doubt," he saidy 
 " they are comforting themselves with tea in 
 there ; so, why shouldn't we two men have some- 
 thing?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" repeated Baversham, 
 pointedly. It was not intentional, but due to deep 
 mental abstraction. He recollected himself. 
 " Thanks ! — here's my very best respects for all 
 
176 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 time ! Blowed if I ain't fairly ashamed o' my 
 young woman/' he said, " carryin' on like this 
 over a mere nothin'. I shall tell her so." 
 
 "You won't," said Hungerford, filling his pipe 
 and handing the pouch across. '* To judge by 
 her appearance, if I may say so, it was quite easily 
 understood. She's a woman, you know." 
 
 ** Well, yes, she is,** he admitted. -Other- 
 wise, I shouldn't be out with her, should I ? It 
 wasn't any too tasty, I own . She went down about 
 four times, I reckon. That's what really upset 
 her, I expect — muckin' her clothes to that extent. 
 I've got my doubts whether they'll wash. 
 Although they do say," he pursued, still partially 
 abstracted, ** that if you really want to know 
 whether a woman's worth havin', you can't do 
 better than tread on her dress as by accident." 
 
 *' Well " — the smoke half hid the smile 
 twitching over Hungerford's face again — *' that 
 is a useful test, I believe. But you would hardly 
 choose a misty marsh for the purpose. And 
 again, there's the chance she may guess it was 
 no accident, eh? " 
 
 "Ever try it?'- blurted Baversham, feeling 
 drawn in this atmosphere to deepest confidence. 
 
 ** No," the other said, taken aback. " I can't 
 say I thought of it." 
 
 ** Good reason : it wasn't necessary." Baver- 
 sham looked down at the cigarette he held. He 
 looked down so long that Hungerford reached out 
 his hand. 
 
 ** Cheer up," Hungerford whispered, his fingers 
 tingling after the squeeze. " You'll be happy 
 enough, when the time comes." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 177 
 
 ** When it comes 1 *' Baversham threw away 
 the cigarette, and dug his chin mcMDdily into his 
 propped hands. ** I don't mind tellin' you, Mr. 
 Hungerford, if no one else, that's the nasty part 
 of it. I can't see it comin'. In my opinion, it 
 never will. No, I refuse to see it comin' ! " 
 
 " That's bad," Hungerford said, with a startled 
 side-glance at the door. 
 
 "Bad? It's rotten. But there you are — what 
 are you goin' to do if there's no gettin* away from 
 it?" 
 
 Hungerford could think of no appropriate reply. 
 He had never contemplated himself in such a 
 position as was briefly outlined. 
 
 '* But surely," he ventured, as Baversham 
 shifted his position with an unmistakable sigh 
 from the heart, " surely Miss " 
 
 '* Shadd," he supplied, gloomily. 
 
 ** — Miss Shadd understands that the very fact 
 of your walking out with her means marriage 
 eventually, if it means anything at all." 
 
 " Not half she doesn't. She understands all 
 about that, believe me I " 
 
 ** Well, then, if you have talked it over to- 
 gether " 
 
 "Talked it over?" Baversham sat up, carried 
 past himself. " Why, we've done nothin' else 
 from the minnit I knew her. Why, we were 
 lookin' at furniture shops and brass bedsteads 
 about the third day. It didn't want any talkin* 
 over. She's not that sort ; although I'll give her 
 her due — she's lovin' enough — a bit too lovin', 
 if anythin'. She'd have me to-morrow.'' 
 
 ** H'm I " Hungerford said, genuinely struck by 
 
 L.s. N 
 
178 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 this candour. ** Then perhaps I'd better say no 
 more.** 
 
 He was thinking of the thin dividing wall. But 
 Baversham had been stirred. 
 
 ** To-morrow," he repeated bitterly, nursing his 
 knee. " And, come to that, I'd have her." 
 
 ** H'm 1 " was all Hungerford could remark 
 again. George reached out for his glass. 
 
 ** No, you don't know, Mr. Hungerford, what 
 I mean," he said. " And I know you're not one 
 to ask ; and it isn't right I should talk of it 
 behind her back, and I'm not goin' to for anyone. 
 I don't say one word against her — to tell you the 
 truth, I'm fonder of her than she thinks — and 
 yet there it is. At times I feel as if I could say : 
 * Give us that ring back — off you go, about your 
 bis'ness.' I do ! Excuse me bein' worked up, 
 but I can't help it. P'r'aps I feel like her — a bit 
 hysterical." 
 
 " It must be so," said Hungerford. His pipe 
 had almost gone out. " All the same, I'm sorry 
 to hear a man talking like that ; and I hope you'll 
 never have to do anything of the sort." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed George, significantly. " Look 
 at the wife you've got. And if her people — her 
 relations — are anything like her, well, I say no 
 more. It's rude o' me." 
 
 Hungerford seemed glad. He had bent hastily 
 forward to tap the ashes from his pipe. Then he 
 got up, to listen. 
 
 ** I fancy they have gone upstairs," he said, to 
 turn the topic. " Yes, they have. Would you — 
 would you like a wash? " 
 
 " Thanks, I would, but I don't feel like it," 
 
LOW SOCIETY 179 
 
 George replied, moody still. " It's enough to 
 think of her cartin' all them muddy flounces up 
 Mrs. Hungerford's staircase, and puttin' you to all 
 this trouble when we could have taken a ha'penny 
 car from the bottom — on top, if she didn't feel 
 like the inside." 
 
 ** That's nonsense," Hungerford told him again, 
 with warmth. " You can call and see us for a 
 chat whenever you are up this way. We are 
 generally at home — and generally alone." 
 
 " Ah I " Baversham was touched afresh on the 
 tender spot. ** There you are again — jest what 
 my idea of a home was — our two selves. But 
 don't you reckon I should ever have it. Selina 
 'ud want all her people round about twice a week, 
 and that 'ud mean a pianner, of course, and then 
 music, and then somethin' extra to wash down the 
 victuals, and so on." 
 
 ** Many in family? " Hungerford enquired, in- 
 terested. 
 
 "Well, no, only three — at present. It isn't 
 that, exactly. She's been brought up to think 
 herself someone, and that means parties every 
 birthday and Bank Holiday, and all the rest of it. 
 I've counted twelve in that back parlour o' theirs 
 before now. But I could stand anythin', so long 
 as he wasn't invited. If he was — my word 1 " 
 
 ** Ah," said Hungerford, wondering why he had 
 only just suspected consuming jealousy. *' I see. 
 I'm sorry." 
 
 He meant it. But, either on a point of honour, 
 or from motives of policy, Baversham brought 
 that subject to a dead stop. They chatted on a 
 little longer — of Barking sights, of Casswade, the 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o LOW SOCIETY 
 
 new houses, the garden, and things in general ; 
 and then steps were heard on the stairs . Somehow 
 or, other, as he rose, it seemed to Hungerford that 
 he had known young Baversham all his life. 
 
 Baversham got up, shook himself, and stood 
 stiffly at attention. The door opened ; Ella came 
 in, smiling, and with a bright spot in each cheek. 
 Selina behind, on the other hand, had a chastened, 
 pale appearance that augured only temporary re- 
 signation to circumstances. As George looked 
 her up and down, to see what had been done in 
 such a prolonged interval, she bit her lip, half 
 turned, and looked steadily at the floor. 
 
 ** Well," said George, frankly, ** I should hardly 
 have known it was you. It isn't every day we 
 shall find a Mrs. Hungerford ready with a cloak 
 to cover up our dirty flounces, and that's a fact."- 
 
 " Oh, they're there, underneath," whispered 
 Selina. " Don't fear ! " 
 
 ** What, are you blamin' it on to me, now? " 
 
 ** Oh, no ! I'm only wondering what you'd say 
 and how you'd look if you'd had to pay for them — 
 that's all." And George drew a deep breath and 
 blew upon his hat. 
 
 *• I think we'll get on home," he said. " No, 
 Mr. Hungerford, you're not comin' any o' the way 
 with us — not a step, if I know it." 
 
 ** But I have to — on an errand." Ella 
 had given him a look, and he was drawing on his 
 overcoat again. " Come along ! Put up the door- 
 chain, dear, till I tap at the glass." 
 
 Ella pressed Selina's hand, and they stepped out 
 into the raw fog. Presently, as Baversham went 
 to hook Selina's arm, he felt her shiver. 
 
LOW SOCIETY l8i 
 
 " There you are, youVe been and taken a chill 
 now," he said, with annoyance. '* Funny lot, you 
 women. Do you mind if we step it out, Mr. Hun- 
 gerford, 'stead o' ridin' ? ** 
 
 " I prefer it," said Hungerford. And out they 
 stepped, Baversham mincing no inches. 
 
 Close upon the flare and noise that, gauged 
 through the fog, lent a Dantesque suggestion, 
 another long shiver escaped Selina. 
 
 " Well, I'm blowed," said George. He drew 
 up. They happened to be passing a public -house. 
 "Mr. Hungerford, d'you mind if I give her a drop 
 o* peppermint hot? In fact, will you do us the 
 pleasure o' comin' in, too — for once? " 
 
 ** Certainly," smiled Hungerford. He believed 
 that Selina had been on the point of gasping ** I 
 don't want any of your peppermint I " ; and he 
 knew that Baversham itched to be hospitable in 
 his turn. 
 
 They went in. It was the saloon bar. George 
 had just tapped the counter with his money when, 
 as from a megaphone only an inch or two away, 
 above the drone sounded a heavy, rolling voice. 
 
 " I don't care what you prove, you haven't 
 proved nothin'. I put my money into bricks and 
 mortar. I maintain that if a man can't get on in 
 this world without help, it's his own bloomin' 
 fault, and I'd chloroform him. I'd " 
 
 It was Mr. Casswade's delivery. The back of 
 Mr. Casswade's head was visible through the glass 
 partition. Selina gave a sudden perilous titter ; 
 George snatched up his money and grabbed at her 
 arm. Perfectly mystified, Hungerford followed 
 them out into the street. 
 
1 82 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " It's all right," Baversham explained to him, in 
 a furtive whisper. *' She jibbed. She shan't have 
 it at all now, for her obstinacy and carryin* on. 
 Some other time, Mr. Hungerford, when we can 
 have a talk and enjoy it ! For the time bein' — 
 goodnight 1 " 
 
 ** What do you make of it? " Hungerford asked 
 of his Ella, hours later, as they lay ready for sleep. 
 
 ** Well, really," she said, thoughtfully, " I don't 
 want to think it — and of course it can't be so ; 
 but it seemed to me as if — as if she were a little 
 strange in her mind, and he is too loyal and 
 generous to give her up merely on that account. 
 Mustn't it be dreadful, dear? " 
 
 '* It must be," agreed Hungerford, impressed in 
 spite of his own private theories. 
 
 There was silence. His eyes had closed. Then 
 suddenly Ella's head turned upon the pillow. 
 
 ** There, it has just come to me. I've wondered 
 over and over and over again. How foolish ! His 
 name must be Joshua — of course I 
 
 *' Who? " he asked, startled. 
 
 ** Why, the foreman here. The man Mr. Cass- 
 wade calls * Josh M " 
 
 '* Good gracious." His silent laughter shook 
 the bed a moment. " Get to sleep, dear. Good- 
 night," he said. 
 
 " Goodnight, Boy ! " She nestled close, ever a 
 little sad in her happiness. " Goodnight 1 It's 
 wrong, I know ; but the more I see of other men 
 and women, the more I love my own Jim I '' 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Sunday, as far as Selina Shadd and her young 
 man were concerned, proved a blank. Selina, 
 her best out-of-doors dress unwearable, spent the 
 greater part of the day in her bedroom, spasms of 
 tears alternating with spells of cold disdain in 
 which she dashed ofif various rough drafts of a 
 Note intended to convey to Baversham that, if she 
 married at all, she had decided to marry a man, 
 and not a pinchbeck imitation of one. Each was 
 destroyed as soon as written, either because the 
 penmanship was not sufficiently indicative of icy 
 indifference, or because the writer pictured 
 Baversham as being consumed with laughter in- 
 stead of tears when he received it. 
 
 Downstairs, after evening-church time, the out- 
 look was discussed with bated warmth by Mr. 
 and Mrs. Shadd. Mr. Shadd declared that, love 
 or no love, Selina had played her cards like a 
 born fool, and thereby thrown away a solid four 
 hundred — possibly five hundred — pounds which 
 might have been turned into as many thousands 
 for her children. Mrs. Shadd answered that she 
 had consistently adhered to a secret aversion to 
 the man, and now positively hated the sound of 
 his name, and thought seriously of sending him in 
 a bill for a best dress racked and sluthered out of 
 all recognition. Both forgot that they had just 
 
1 84 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 been to Divine Service and prayed as fervently as 
 any there to be delivered from the Father of all 
 Lies. 
 
 Monday came ; and with it a decided change of 
 opinion. Baversham called as though nothing at 
 all had happened, kissed Selina, kissed her mother, 
 and shook hands twice with Mr. Shadd. Ten 
 minutes later it was settled that there had been 
 some absurd mistake, and that nothing more had 
 better be said about the damaged skirts — which, 
 unlike an honest man's affection, could be easily 
 replaced. When, at Selina's casual suggestion 
 that perhaps he fancied the usual walk, George 
 replied that it suited him just as well to sit with 
 her in the back parlour — the small one next to the 
 washhouse — the misty marsh seemed to fade quite 
 into a background. George even turned down the 
 gas there — to save so much waste on his account, 
 as he said. For a moment Selina thought that 
 he meant to take her on his knee and be tender ; 
 but perhaps that was too much to expect of Baver- 
 sham. Failing this, they went through the post- 
 card album three times carefully, and Selina 
 pointed out which of the coloured views struck her 
 as the most appropriate setting for a honeymoon, 
 and felt almost dreamy. 
 
 '* I wish you were like other men, and could 
 come every night," she said, at the door. 
 
 " Overtime," said George, briefly. "It's a 
 curse, but it's better than bein' out o' work. How- 
 ever, I'll think about it." 
 
 He did. For the next two nights he put in a 
 dutiful, most lover -like appearance. He even 
 stood at the shop -doorway and evinced an interest 
 
LOW SOCIETY 185 
 
 in watching Mr. Shadd weigh and tie up the pur- 
 chases, and seemed particularly struck by the 
 hahing " S— s— s— " and " F— f— f— " which 
 paved the way whenever possible to an extra far- 
 thing or halfpenny — according to the nature of the 
 purchase and the look of the customer. Mrs. 
 Shadd said there was no earthly reason why they 
 should not take larger premises in the High Street, 
 allow Baversham entire control, and share the 
 profits weekly. 
 
 " Why, bless me, Selina's a clever girl," said 
 Mr. Shadd, when alone with his wife. " And the 
 fellow's as right as ninepence." 
 
 " I always told you so, only you wouldn't be- 
 lieve it," replied Mrs. Shadd, folding her hands 
 and nodding. " In future I'll say nothing." 
 
 Thursday came. At ten minutes to eight, p.m., 
 Baversham, on his way yet again, found Selina 
 awaiting him on the kerb a little way from Tamp- 
 lin Street. George hated to be kissed in the open 
 street, even after dark ; so Selina had to fall back 
 on a little titter of pleasure. 
 
 '* Here you are, then ! My ear burned so, I 
 knew you couldn't be far off. Yes, I thought I'd 
 meet you, because Mr. Casswade's coming to- 
 night." 
 
 '* Oh, is he ? " George appeared to freeze. "I'm 
 not comin', then." 
 
 •* That's what I thought." She did not add that 
 her father had thrown out a cautious hint on the 
 point, too. ** So we can go for a stroll, can't we ? " 
 George cogitated. He did not seem disposed 
 to fall in with any proposition of hers whatever. 
 He stood quite a time, staring. 
 
1 86 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** What time's he comin' ? '* he demanded at 
 len^h. 
 
 " About now, I think. He sent a boy over with 
 a note to say so, I believe, after tea. Why? 
 What's the matter in that? " 
 
 " The matter's this," George replied, with a 
 deep breath. "It so happens that I'm sick to 
 death of walkin' about ; and, again, it so happens 
 that I thought of havin' a few words with your 
 father to-night, rather particular, too." 
 
 " Oh I " Selina looked at the roadway, plucked 
 at her handkerchief, and had nothing more to 
 say, as for fear of spoiling a good resolve. 
 
 ** Look here ! " George seemed uncertain, but 
 very much in earnest, all the same. He looked 
 along the pavement both ways. " Look here ! — 
 move up the street a bit." 
 
 They moved halfway up Tamplin Street, and 
 paused again. It was all rather vague, but Selina 
 was only conscious of feeling considerably nearer 
 the altar -goal than she had ever been able to feel 
 yet. 
 
 ** It's like this," said George. " I really meant 
 to see him, privately like, and I don't see why — 
 Where's your mother? " 
 
 ** In the shop, serving. I heard father say she 
 was to keep in there till Mr. Casswade went." 
 Selina, in a tremble of suspense, tore at the hem 
 of her handkerchief. " Why? " 
 
 " Nothin' — 'cept that I've jest thought. We 
 can go in and sit quiet in the little back room, I 
 s'pose, if we want to — and then I can say what I 
 want as soon as he's gone." 
 
 " I believe you downright hate Mr. Casswade," 
 Selina said, softly. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 187 
 
 ** I've as much right there as him," George re- 
 plied, with unusual heat. 
 
 " Oh, certainly. But What I mean is, you can 
 be properly jealous when you like, can't you? 
 At any rate, you were over young Sanders, you 
 must admit. I believe you've met him and done 
 something to frighten him." 
 
 '" Lifted my eyebrow, p'r'aps." George's 
 roving glance came back to her rather suddenly. 
 ** You've got your key — the private door key, 
 haven't you? " he asked, with a yawn. 
 
 " I don't know. Why?" She started fumbling 
 in her skirts. 
 
 "Make haste," muttered George. ** Do you 
 have to undress to find your pockets now? " 
 
 '* No, I haven't got it with me." 
 
 " Of course you haven't ; you never have. 
 Well, come on : if I don't speak to him to-night, I 
 shan't at all." He moved on toward Mr. Shadd's. 
 *' You can go in through the shop and say you've 
 forgotten somethin' — your brains or your handker- 
 chief — and then come and let me in quiet at the 
 side door. No need to say youVe met me yet." 
 
 *' You must have something wonderful to say 1 " 
 whispered Selina, on the verge of a nervous 
 ecstasy. "Won't it keep? I s'pose not." She 
 pictured a preliminary fugitive rehearsal in the 
 small back parlour, and intuitively guessed that 
 he could scarcely contain himself until the ordeal 
 was passed. 
 
 *' It 'ud keep, but I don't want it to," he said, 
 significantly. " Go on in, do ! " He was evi- 
 dently screwed up to the necessary excitement. 
 
 She went in, her full figure obscuring his own 
 
1 88 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 as he passed the shop doorway and waited beyond. 
 He was of different stuff from the man who, with 
 finger-nails dug into his palms, counts mentally 
 the passing beats of Time ; he simply stared out 
 ahead and whistled reflectively to himself. And 
 presently the side door opened, and Selina tittered. 
 George moved inside smartly, and held the door. 
 
 ** Where's your father? " he asked. 
 
 "Just coming downstairs. Why?" 
 
 " Look here I " He gripped her arm feverishly. 
 " P'r'aps I'd rather — er — do it alone. I could 
 speak better without you listenin'. Go on 1 — 
 you wait down at the end of the High Street till I 
 come. Casswade's sure not to stay long. Yes, 
 go on ! " 
 
 He gave her a helping push outward, and 
 clicked the door behind her. He paused just long 
 enough to hear her walk away, and then went on 
 tiptoe down the dim passage, and into the small 
 back parlour aforesaid — that was really a kitchen, 
 only the Shadds thought the scullery quite spacious 
 enough. A very low gaslight was burning here — 
 Selina had run in to regulate it in readiness, no 
 doubt. He had only to draw a bolt, and another 
 door let him out into the Shadds' garden — a ten- 
 feet square paved with egg-boxes and margarine - 
 kegs. He could look through the curtains into 
 the bigger front room. 
 
 He could do nothing more. Mr. Shadd had 
 just taken up his position — one of easy affluence, 
 beside a table on which were placed a decanter, 
 ash-tray, glasses, and two or three articles of 
 electro - silver ware, which he moved now and 
 again so as to gain a better effect of everyday use 
 
LOW SOCIETY 189 
 
 and carelessness as to expense. He had a long 
 cigar ready, too. He lit it, closed his eyes and 
 puffed the smoke in several directions to give the 
 room an Oriental odour, made a grimace, and laid 
 the cigar down. In the same instant he was on 
 his feet, his hand extended for an easy, welcoming 
 wave. The door was open, and Casswade's im- 
 posing figure, with a fleshy bulge which he carried 
 before him like a poised basket, appeared. It was 
 not solely by chance that he had preferred again 
 to enter by way of the shop. It created more 
 noise, bustle and sense of importance in contrast 
 to the bacon and eggs and other mean sources of 
 livelihood lying around. 
 
 In this momentary stir, Baversham slid up his 
 hand. The night being comparatively mild and 
 airless, the top window was open an inch or so ; 
 Baversham pushed up the bottom window an inch 
 or so, to match. 
 
 Now, if he wished, he could both see and hear 
 all that passed. If Mrs. Shadd quitted the shop at 
 all, she must pass through the front parlour. If 
 Mr. Shadd looked like making for the rear of the 
 premises at any moment, George had only to turn 
 into the small room beside him and sit down by 
 the post -card album in an absorbed attitude — wait- 
 ing until the other visitor had gone. In a word, 
 George had no intention of leaving behind him 
 the scent of premeditated design. 
 
 "And how are we?" asked Casswade, in his 
 deepest voice. 
 
 ** Nicely, thank you ; as well as can be nowa- 
 days ! ** Mr. Shadd smoothed his hands, looked all 
 round, remembered the cigar, caught it up, and 
 
I90 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 puffed hastily. ** And how's yourself, may I 
 ask?'* 
 
 '* You may," Casswade answered, curtly ; '* but 
 I didn't come to talk any empty bloomin' twaddle 
 to-night, if that's anythin'." 
 
 *' Oh, quite so, quite so — that goes without 
 saying — of course ! " 
 
 ** That's all right, then. I get sick o' bloomin' 
 people gassin' about their feelin's, and the weather, 
 and all the rest of it. If a man's alive, I can see 
 it ; if he's dead, I don't want to see him. And 
 that's good enough for me." 
 
 ** There, now — precisely my own way of think- 
 ing," Mr. Shadd observed, as if struck. 
 
 *' Don't tell lies," said Casswade, shortly. He 
 did not care for his theories to appear too cheap 
 and commonplace. " You wouldn't be a bloomin* 
 church -deacon, if you thought like I do in any way 
 whatsoever." 
 
 There was an air of " something to come " 
 about him to-night. He had taken off his hat 
 and overcoat with extra deliberation, walked to 
 the fireplace to spit, returned to place a fat pocket- 
 book on the table with a bang, and then prepared 
 to dispose himself in the chair placed ready. This 
 took time, as he had to turn up the chair once 
 or twice for safety's sake with a grunt of 
 comment . 
 
 *' Three -and -nine would about buy your little 
 lot, wouldn't it?" he remarked, referring either 
 to the chairs or to the furniture in general. 
 *' Gettin' married didn't run you into ruin, at any 
 rate." 
 
 Mr. Shadd watched narrowly, while trying to 
 
LOW SOCIETY 191 
 
 look the other way. He would not speak. To 
 appear anxious at all was simply fatal. 
 
 ** Well ! " Casswade said, sitting back, his hand 
 on the pocket-book. It was the air and tone of a 
 man about to reveal nothing less than the findings 
 of a Secret Commission. " I said I was comin', 
 and I'm here." 
 
 Mr. Shadd hardly breathed. Then suddenly, 
 aware of his visitor's fishy little eye glaring 
 directly, he sprang for the decanter and poured 
 out a reckless measure. 
 
 ** Steady," Casswade said. " I ain't a barrel. 
 I do my drinkin' up at the local when I leave here, 
 and the rest at home if I want it. Now I " He 
 took up the glass, and looked all rounds 
 "Where's she? Selina, I mean — where was she 
 off to?" 
 
 ** Er — she went out to meet her young man." 
 
 ** I thought so. . . . Well, she's got no 
 young man." He drained the glass to the last 
 drop, and set it down. 
 
 A pause. '* I was half afraid of it," Mr. Shadd 
 whispered with dry lips, not knowing in the least 
 what he meant. 
 
 In other words," Casswade proceeded, taking 
 no notice, ** out o' that man's own mouth — or 
 inkpot, whichever you like — he's crabbed hisself 
 for all time. Who was it told you all along what 
 he was ? Me ! Who was it sat here and thought 
 of an idea that might draw him out ? Me 1 And 
 who's had all the undertalk and nasty looks shoved 
 on him? Me ! Not that I mind — I don't want 
 to be any man's bosom friend — I jest simply re- 
 call it as a fact. , . , Er — five hundred pounds 
 
192 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 odd, I think you settled it your daughter's young 
 man had got behind him? " 
 
 '* There or thereabouts," said Mr. Shadd^ 
 shakily. '* We both thought so, if you re- 
 member." 
 
 '* Oh, did we ? You speak for yourself. What's 
 his name ? — Baversham, ain't it ? Well, Baver- 
 sham Esquire's got jest forty-five quid in the wide 
 world — and p'r'aps another ten bob put by for his 
 funeral. And if you're goin' to allow your 
 daughter — your own offspring — to be fooled and 
 married by a feller like that — well, there, p'r'aps 
 you think it's good enough, to get her off your 
 hands. Wouldn't do for us all to think alike." 
 
 He lit a big briar pipe, lay back, and puffed 
 placidly. When at length he glanced round he 
 saw that Mr. Shadd, never very healthy-looking, 
 was of a fish -belly pallor, and had a genuine! 
 difficulty in suppressing emotion. It stirred even 
 Casswade. He spat his own emotion across the 
 carpet . ^ 
 
 " I'd shoot him," he said. ** No, I wouldn't— 
 I'd truss him afore her eyes. I'd — I'd ram a 
 butter-tub over his head and spike him on the 
 front railing." 
 
 There was no front railing, but Mr. Shadd was 
 past carping. With a long, straining sigh — almost 
 a sob — he turned desperately to the decanter, and 
 swallowed iii gulps sufficient whiskey to restore any 
 man's faculties to par. 
 
 ** I will ! " he affirmed, gasping and choking. 
 ** I mean it. I'll show him." 
 
 ** I should think so." Casswade laid open his 
 pocket-book, while the iron was hot. " Now, 
 
LOW SOCIETY 193 
 
 then, don't run past yourself. See it all out in 
 black and white, afore you judge him. Know his 
 address? Know his handwritin' ? " 
 
 Mr. Shadd knew both. He nodded limply. 
 
 ** Well, then, here you are. It's took him a 
 whole month to nibble, as you might expect by the 
 cut of him ; but he's bit, and that's everythin'. 
 Somehow, I thought he might, by his sawney look. 
 That's the letter he sent to my lawyer's place on 
 Monday mornin' — posted late Sunday night." 
 
 ** How did you come by it ? " rattled Mr. Shadd, 
 trying to fit his spectacles under his nose instead 
 of above it. 
 
 ** Never mind that — look what you're doin*, 
 you fool. There ain't much I don't see and 
 know ; I'm in there nigh every day, on bis'ness ; 
 and I know one or two o* the clerks outside to 
 speak to, and I kep' it in my mind all along. 
 Don't sit there snivellin' — read it, like a man." 
 
 And Mr. Shadd read it slowly, tremulously, 
 aloud. To read it to himself alone seemed un- 
 canny . 
 
 '* Sir, — Your firm having been highly mentioned 
 to me by a business friend, I write to ask a favour, 
 for which I am prepared to pay a fee within reason 
 if anything results. For some time past I have 
 been thinking of a small business — Barking pre- 
 ferred — and am not particular as to what it is as 
 long as I can see a weekly profit — sufficient, of 
 course, to keep a young couple going fairly. 
 
 *' I have in the Post Office Savings Bank a sum 
 of forty -five pounds, and might save a little more 
 between now and Easter, but would rather not go 
 beyond my means. If you think this not suitable 
 
 L.S. O 
 
194 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 for my purpose, I am given to understand that you 
 know of good investments likely to turn out well. 
 Any transaction will, I presume, be treated as 
 strictly private. My chief reason in writing is to 
 dispose of my savings profitably. The favour of a 
 reply would oblige, yours truly, G. Baversham." 
 
 Mr. Shadd read it through as slowly a second 
 time, and was beginning yet again still more 
 slowly. Casswade brought his open hand down 
 like a thunderclap on the table. 
 
 " That's enough," he said ; " you don't want to 
 eat the bloomin' thing. Is it there, or isn't it? 
 Was I right, or wasn't I? " 
 
 ** It's cruel," faltered Mr. Shadd, laying the 
 letter down. *' Oh, it's a wicked thing, this is I " 
 
 "Wicked? That's nothin'. It's bleed'n rob- 
 bery, that's what it is. Here's a feller comes and 
 offers you five hundred odd for your daughter, so 
 to speak — gets her — and then weighs out forty- 
 five quid and a broad grin. Why," said Cass- 
 wade, roused almost to a roar, ** the man's got 
 nothin', you might say. Nothin' ! What about 
 the furniture ? A fold-up bed, and one or two 
 knicknacks, and his money's gone. He'll be comin' 
 to you — you — with the blessed bill for the weddin' 
 breakfast. And then you'll have to keep and 
 clothe his kids — and he's bound to have a crowd. 
 I'd brain him with them tongs, I would." 
 
 ** I'll expose him." Worked up at last, Mr. 
 Shadd rose. " I'll brand him in the eyes of 
 Barking. I'll confront him with it, this very 
 night. Give me that letter 1 " 
 
 They made a simultaneous grab, but Casswade 
 got there first. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 195 
 
 ** Oh, no," he said. He tore it carefully into 
 strips and placed them in his pocket. " That's 
 done with. If you like to get into such a bog, 
 that's your look-out. You can't drag me into it." 
 
 ** What would you do ? " rattled the other, the 
 picture of hollow-eyed helplessness. 
 
 "Do? Well, I reckon I've said what I'd do. 
 I'd look a bit ferocious over it, for a start. If I 
 hadn't got the pluck to touch him, I'd touch her.'' 
 
 *' But — but if she carries on — if she goes and 
 does anything " 
 
 ** She can't. I'd tie her by the hair to somethin' 
 upstairs. Are you her father, or ain't you? " 
 
 Mr. Shadd took another desperate throatful of 
 whiskey. '* Mr. Casswade," he said, in a suffo- 
 cated voice, ** no one could blame me if I got 
 drunk to-night. I shall — I feel it. What — what 
 have they replied to him? Tell me that." 
 
 ** I dunno. I should guess they told him in 
 legal language what they thought of him. At any 
 rate, he wrote back yesterday to say he was sorry 
 he'd troubled 'em ; and there's an end of it — 'cept 
 that he's still got your Selina safe up his 
 sleeve." 
 
 ** Has he?" Mr. Shadd struck out at an in- 
 visible face in front of him, and nearly fell. *' You 
 wait. Only wait. My Selina's got a heart of gold. 
 She's been deceived ; but that's all. Let him show 
 his face here to-night, or any other night. I'd 
 like — I'd like you to see hers, when she hears that 
 he only wanted her for what he could get. The 
 lying scoundrel ! She'd never — never have 
 looked twice at his mealy, freckled face if he 
 hadn't had something to make up a little for his 
 
 o 2 
 
196 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 looks — as we thought. She's said so. Call him 
 a man? I— I " 
 
 He seized the decanter in abandonment again, 
 and drank from it direct, disdaining a tumbler. 
 The whiskey poured down his neck, inside and out. 
 He sank into his chair, choking, but still striking 
 feebly out with one hand to show that the fighting - 
 mood was no make-believe. Then gradually his 
 head went down until only the bald top showed ; 
 and he resembled nothing more dangerous than a 
 fowl in moult. 
 
 Casswade gave a snort of disgust, got up, put 
 on his hat and coat, and made to depart. There 
 happened to be no customers in the shop. Mrs. 
 Shadd lifted the counter -flap and nodded and 
 smiled incessantly as he squeezed through side- 
 ways. It annoyed Mr. Casswade. 
 
 *' Not quite so much of it,*' he said, between his 
 teeth ; and jerked his thumb toward the front 
 parlour. " Have a look at your husband. Looks 
 all right for a deacon, don't he ? " 
 
 He passed out and went down the street, his 
 bulk poised swayingly before him. Selina Shadd 
 was turning into Tamplin Street just as he turned 
 out of it ; but it so happened that she did not see 
 him. 
 
 She was out of breath, having suddenly grasped 
 that no woman of spirit could be expected to walk 
 tamely up and down a strip of pavement the while 
 her future was being mapped out. Her proper 
 place would have been to sit and hold George's 
 hand tightly while he broke through his reserve — 
 to assist, figuratively, at the long-delayed hatching 
 of a precious egg. Goodness knew, she had 
 
LOW SOCIETY 197 
 
 watched it long enough, and feared at times it was 
 unfertile . 
 
 She burst through the shop, and paused, staring 
 round. "What's the matter?" she asked, her 
 voice cracking a little. 
 
 " Matter? Can't you see? Your father's had a 
 fit, or something. Don't let George in, whatever 
 you do. Shut the door — keep him out ! " 
 
 Selina did not move. She stood as one in a 
 trance. What she felt, would never be known. 
 She saw her father moan and turn up his eyes in 
 the effort to explain that Mrs. Shadd's first-aid 
 movement — a violent shaking and rubbing — was 
 only adding to his inward sensations ; but she 
 could not feel the faintest surprise or interest, 
 much less a desire to help. 
 
 "Where is he?" she whispered mechanically, 
 as Mrs. Shadd paused in exhaustion. ** What 
 have you done to him? " 
 
 "Done to him?" panted Mrs. Shadd. "Are 
 you struck balmy? Get your things off, and do 
 something, do. Look at him I " 
 
 Selina put out a clenched hand strainingly. 
 
 " Don't," she breathed, " don't think I'm a 
 child any longer ; I'm not. Where is he — 
 George? " 
 
 And Mr. Shadd's limply -hanging head lifted a 
 little. He stared, and muttered thickly. 
 
 " George ! Yes, where is he? Bring him here. 
 I'll — I'll shatter every bone in his body ! " 
 
 "What for?" choked Selina, taking a step. 
 " What's he said?— What's he done? " 
 
 "What's he done? I'll show him. He — he's 
 got no money. Casswade's proved it. Let him — 
 
198 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 let him come here again on the cheap — that*s all. 
 
 rii— rii " 
 
 Mr. Shadd's head lurched forward, and then 
 sideways. He had collapsed, too far gone to 
 think it a mercy. 
 
 ** Hold him up," shrieked Mrs. Shadd. " He's 
 dying. Hold his " 
 
 "Where's George?" Selina shrieked back. 
 "What's he done to him? Will you answer or 
 not?" 
 
 She ran for the little back parlour, and stared 
 wildly round. No one ! With another gasp she 
 snatched at a little envelope lying upon the table, 
 and tore it open. 
 
 " I'm gone," was scrawled on a slip of paper 
 inside. " You can tell them how you let me in 
 here, or not, just as you like. If you want to 
 know where I am, you can go on wanting. If 
 anyone else wants to know, I'm in the mud at the 
 bottom of the river. George B." 
 
 A minute more, and Selina had groped a blind 
 way upstairs, flung herself along the bed, and 
 bitten her pillow just in time to stifle a series of 
 screams that would have startled all Barking. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Boom 1 . . . Wow — ow — ow 1 . . . Boom I 
 
 If there was one thing Mr. Matt Casswade re- 
 sented even more than he resented lack of enter- 
 prise in other people, it was a howling winter 
 wind ; and both were very much in evidence on 
 that following Monday afternoon, as he made a 
 slow way homeward from the New Eden estate. 
 
 Twice his hat had lifted from his head and gone 
 spinning on in advance ; and twice he had had to 
 stand and look amused while someone less handi- 
 capped physically went after it. On the second 
 occasion it was a small boy, and he prolonged the 
 chase in expectation of increased reward, making 
 abortive swoops with hand or foot which did not 
 add to the symmetry of the rolling headgear. 
 
 " Look at it," said Mr. Casswade, when at last 
 it was handed to him. " I give three half-crowns 
 for that hat ; and now look at it. You ought to 
 be ashamed o' yourself. I was goin' to give you 
 sixpence ; I shan't." 
 
 The long spell of grey, silent days, with muff- 
 ling mist at night, had apparently broken. 
 There was a chill, tearful wind from south-west 
 which kept up sustained, purposeless howls sug- 
 gesting a pack of starved but cowardly wolves in 
 the distance ; and at intervals, between the howls, 
 boomed out that irritating roar from the great 
 
200 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 practice -guns away at Woolwich. Under such 
 conditions, with little knots of blue-nosed, white- 
 faced ** Sons of Empire " singing or begging for 
 assistance here and there along the route, no more 
 depressing environment than this portion of South- 
 ern Essex could be conceived. The numbers of 
 the unwanted and unfed — who consequently bred 
 the unfit — threatened to become indecently large 
 this winter. Crawling out from London's heart 
 and back again, in all directions, they were un- 
 sightly specks on every highway. Mr. Casswade, 
 who had not himself contributed to the redundant 
 population, had a distinct and growing grievance. 
 
 '* I pay my rates and taxes like clockwork," he 
 said, almost nightly. " I say it's a bloomin' 
 wicked country that can keep on findin' big pen- 
 sions for Cabinet Ministers and others that don't 
 require 'em, and chucks to Charity them that 
 only want bread in their innards and a shirt on 
 their out'ards." 
 
 Mr. Casswade resembled clockwork in his 
 domestic habits, too — especially as to meals. Miss 
 Pugh generally sensed his homecoming, and made 
 a dart for the door, but was generally baulked, as 
 he preferred the quick use of his key — thinking 
 to take her unawares in some inanity or misuse 
 of his goods. On this occasion she got halfway 
 down the passage. 
 
 '* So blustering 1 Come along, it's all warm and 
 cosy for you," she said, throwing open a door. 
 She had indeed made a movement, almost pathetic 
 in its wistful nature, to relieve him of his over- 
 coat ; but Mr. Casswade repelled it with a glance, 
 and flung himself down into an arm-chair by 
 
LOW SOCIETY 20I 
 
 the fire just as he was. ** So tired and 
 tried, aren't you?" she cooed, as she poked 
 the coals . 
 
 " No, I'm not," said Mr. Casswade. "I'm 
 about fed-up with everythin', that's all." 
 
 " Not with me, I hope," dared Miss Pugh, her 
 finger laid to her drooped cheek meditatively. 
 She really worked very long and cheerfully for 
 her money, and had waited months for Mr. Cass- 
 wade to notice how slim and attractive she looked 
 in the black silk afternoon robe — especially be- 
 tween the lights, when men are most susceptible, 
 and feminine outlines appear as soft and suggestive 
 as they ought to do. 
 
 *' Yes, you and all," he said, almost violently. 
 " You as much as anyone." 
 
 For a moment Miss Pugh could not speak. She 
 was tired herself, and could easily have burst into 
 tears, only that tears had a singularly unpleasant 
 and unnatural elTect upon Mr. Casswade. She was 
 accustomed to his blunt generalities, but some- 
 thing in his manner now seemed to imply that he 
 had been brooding specifically. 
 
 " Something has been said, I suppose," she 
 whispered, absently. " It always was so, and 
 always will be. I can bear it." 
 
 " You can do what you like," he retorted, kick- 
 ing the fireirons. " You're no better than any- 
 body else, are you? " 
 
 " Oh, no! '' she breathed. ** Don't think that 
 — I am not above reproach. I do my duty in my 
 sphere, I hope ; if it's appreciated, I'm paid. If 
 it's not, it's not." 
 
 '* That's all right, then." He bent stubbornly 
 
202 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 to see to his boots. He could not argue with 
 people who talked about duty and spheres. 
 
 " Sit still ! " With a sudden surge of daring, 
 impelled by pique, Miss Pugh had slipped to her 
 knees. ** Sit still I " she repeated, tremblingly. 
 *' If I don't do enough, you shall know it's not 
 from want of thought." And she rapidly uncoiled 
 the laces, and tugged till the boots came away. 
 With another determined spasm, she held him 
 back with one hand while she reached for his 
 slippers with the other, and fitted them on carefully 
 herself. She was quite pink in the face as she 
 rose. " There, it's all I can do, but I've done it I " 
 
 With uncertain sounds in her throat, she ran 
 from the room, leaving Mr. Casswade to stare 
 glassily at his feet and then at the door. 
 
 " She's gone mad, now," was his muttered com- 
 ment. *' We're goin' on all right, one things and 
 another, I'm blowed if we ain't." 
 
 Presently Miss Pugh tapped and rustled in 
 again, looking suspiciously clean about the eyes. 
 She carried a teapot and a plate of bread sliced 
 ready for toasting. She went down on her knees 
 again, while Mr. Casswade glared heavily at a 
 youthful strip of velvet around her throat, and 
 wondered what it was supposed to be there for. 
 
 " The crumpet man didn't call — or else I was 
 dressing," she said, in a subdued, far-away voice. 
 ** And I wouldn't keep up a big kitchen fire, to 
 waste the coals. I think of them as if they were 
 my own coals ; it's in my nature, I suppose." 
 
 " Lot o' funny things in your nature, it strikes 
 me," he said. And Miss Pugh looked ready to 
 cry again, but thought better of it. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 203 
 
 Casswade's restless glance roved round to the 
 teapot, wrapped in a crimson ** cosy " with tassels. 
 
 ** You've got that bloomin* thing on again, 
 then," he complained. If there was one domestic 
 trifle that roused him when cantankerously in- 
 clined, it was this same aesthetic covering for the 
 teapot — perhaps because it was one of the very 
 few points in housekeeping upon which Miss Pugh 
 silently ignored him. To-night, the sight of it 
 acted as a red rag flaunted before a bull. ** I 
 thought I've said times out o' number I wouldn't 
 have it ? How do I know which is the bloomin' 
 handle or the spout, with that lump o' flannel all 
 round it ? " 
 
 ** It is not flannel. I worked it. And you need 
 not excite yourself," answered Miss Pugh, with 
 faint dignity. ** I always pour your tea, and 
 always shall." 
 
 " That's nothin' to do with it. You will have 
 your own way, won't you? You're like all the 
 rest o' the wimmen. Blowed 1 " he said, striking 
 the tea-tray. " I'll have an end to it. I'll get 
 married myself. I've said I will, and I will." 
 
 "I'm sure, I hope you'll be very happy, Mr. 
 Casswade," she replied, more faintly still. 
 
 " Happy ! Oh, I'll take care o' that. You 
 leave it to me. She's got to do as I tell her.** 
 He drew up his chair to the table. 
 
 Miss Pugh rose, lit the gas, buttered the toast, 
 filled his cup, and was turning. 
 
 ** Hi ! Take that off," he said, pointing to the 
 teapot cover. ** That 1 " And she mutely obeyed. 
 It had taken her tedious days to crochet and 
 fashion, and she stood a moment with it hanging 
 
204 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 from her fingers. Then, a little to his surprise, 
 she stooped quietly and thrust it into the ashes 
 below the grate. *' Ah, that's your temper," he 
 muttered. 
 
 " No," she said ; "it is because there is a just 
 limit to even a woman's endurance ; and lately 
 you have done your utmost, it seems to me, to 
 overstep it. Never mind." 
 
 " What d'you mean? " His mouth full of toast, 
 he stared her up and down. " I tell you what it 
 has seemed lately, and what I don't like at all — 
 that you seem to run this bloomin' household jest 
 as you think fit, and that I'm becomin' a blessed 
 skittle, shoved here, there and everywhere. Now 
 you know." 
 
 Miss Pugh, her head bent, went out at the door. 
 She reappeared. It had only taken her a few 
 seconds to give her features the necessary com- 
 posed setting. 
 
 ** This is Monday," she whispered. " We need 
 say nothing about the two odd days. By this time 
 on Saturday, I'll be out of your way for good and 
 ever." 
 
 He wiped his mouth and reflected. '* Found 
 somethin' in the paper — my paper? " he queried, 
 almost amicably. 
 
 ** No ; I have no time here to even look at the 
 papers — your papers." 
 
 " All right. Do as you like. I don't care if 
 the bloomin' house blows up to-morrow mornin'." 
 
 She vanished. She reappeared — this time a 
 little precipitately. For the instant it struck him 
 that she was about to rush across and throw her 
 arms about him in sheer abandonment or farewell 
 
LOW SOCIETY 205 
 
 — he got ready. But she only pulled back the tea- 
 tray, and drew a sharp breath of relief. 
 
 "I'm sorry/* she whispered. " I quite forgot 
 for the moment it was there. It came just before 
 you did." 
 
 Mr. Casswade tore open the letter. His face 
 underwent two or three interesting changes as he 
 read — from mystification to derision, and thence 
 to annoyance and difficulty. 
 
 Not the least of Mr. Casswade*s ineradicable 
 aversions was that for anything in the shape of a 
 ** party," or any function of a social nature which 
 might come under that heading. As far as it 
 lay in him to feel a sort of partiality for any 
 person, he had been favourably impressed by 
 young Hungerford ; but only in the abstract — 
 only in a strictly commercial sense. Young Hun- 
 gerford had clearly made the supposed financial 
 obligation a lever for some deeper sentiment. 
 
 " I don't want to go to the blessed man's 
 house," Casswade muttered. " Never give it 
 another thought. Why can't he meet me in a 
 pub . somewhere, and say what he wants ? Me and 
 ' Mrs. Casswade ' ! " 
 
 It would have been easy to tear it up and reply 
 to that eff^ect on one of the pictorial postcards 
 which represented the New Eden estate as a tract 
 of land almost tropical in its colouring and en- 
 chantment. But Mr. Casswade, his brows pucker- 
 ing, allowed himself to read the letter through 
 again . 
 ** 9, Mandalay Gardens, Sunday, 13th November. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Casswade, — I have by no means lost 
 sight of your promise to bring Mrs. C. to spend 
 
2o6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 an hour or so with us one evening, on the strength 
 of the new house. Self and wife would regard it 
 as a distinct pleasure to see you both here on 
 Friday next about 7 p.m. It so happens that I 
 may be able to do a mutually satisfactory bit of 
 business with you at the same time, and further- 
 more expect a friend will drop in with a view to 
 house -purchase. As that is the only evening I can 
 possibly arrange, I hope it will be convenient to 
 you both. Mrs. C. and the wife can chat com- 
 fortably together while we settle our affairs. We 
 shall accept no excuse, mind, as I like to keep to 
 my word. You can leave us just as soon as you 
 feel disposed. With kind regards to Mrs. C, 
 "Yours faithfully, J. Hungerford." 
 
 ** Never see such a man," pondered Mr. Cass- 
 wade, turning the letter over and over. ** Dunno 
 what to say or do. He don't leave a bloomin' 
 loophole. No doubt he'd like to be pals with one 
 o' the biggest builders in the place — no doubt I " 
 
 When mentally perturbed, or pursuing an idea, 
 Mr. Casswade had what is known as a short way 
 with him. He went abruptly to the door, pro- 
 truded his head, shouted out " Hi ! " and returned 
 to his seat with a thud. 
 
 Presently Miss Pugh entered to the extent of 
 about three inches, and stood with a martyr -like 
 resignation. 
 
 ** I shan't eat you," he said. ** I dunno why 
 you wimmen are always shovin' on some fresh 
 antic or other. Jest cast your mind back : where 
 was I that night when you said Mr. Hungerford 
 called here to see me about some bis'ness? " 
 
 " Goodness knows," Miss Pugh replied, with 
 
LOW SOCIETY 207 
 
 eloquence, if whisperingly. " I mean, you didn't 
 appear able to feel the slightest interest." 
 
 " Well, I did, as it happens. A thing can slip 
 my memory if it likes, can't it ? I s'pose I put it 
 down to some crack in a ceilin' or other. Last 
 week, wasn't it? You said he " 
 
 " I said he was tall, dark, pale, and distin- 
 guished-looking — and quite a gentleman," put in 
 Miss Pugh, with hushed rapidity. ** He was ! " 
 
 ** H'm. *Cause he took you for the missis here, 
 didn't he?" mused Mr. Casswade ironically, 
 spreading himself over the fire as with indiffer- 
 ence. " Called you ' Mrs. Casswade,' I believe, 
 didn't he? And you let him think it." 
 
 ** I could not help him taking me for a lady," 
 said Miss Pugh. She had never looked more 
 erect and virginal. " It was not my place to 
 correct a slight misapprehension on his part." 
 
 "Slight, eh?" Mr. Casswade coughed as if 
 to smother a very different adjective of his own. 
 " Well, it don't signify. What I meant was, you 
 don't happen to know at all what he'd really come 
 about? " 
 
 " I don't. He said that another time would do, 
 lifted his hat, and went — quite a gentleman ! " 
 her whisper trailed away. 
 
 " All right. That's the lot. Er— when did you 
 say you was goin' to leave? " 
 
 '* On Saturday, I said," she trembled. 
 
 ** That means, I s'pose, you want another bob 
 or so a week? " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind 1 " She was taking an 
 indignant step, but Mr. Casswade's hand waved 
 a warning. 
 
2o8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 *' That's enough," he said. ** You can have it 
 from Saturday ; but don't rile me again with any 
 o' these fits and fads, because I'm not made to 
 stand 'em, and I won't. Had your tea? " 
 
 ** I couldn't touch it," was the faint response. 
 
 " Well, put a drop o' gin in it ; then you will. 
 That's all right." And the door softly closed. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 About an hour later, Mr. Casswade drew on his 
 boots again and stepped from the house. The 
 wind had dropped considerably with " sunset " ; 
 but it merited several hearty curses before Mr. 
 Casswade 's measured roll had brought him out 
 again to the New Eden estate. The workmen had 
 gone long since, of course ; save for the dull, irre- 
 gular banging of a hammer in one of the build- 
 ings, a sort of negative silence reigned every- 
 where. A crimson blind at some lit window here 
 and there lent quite a warm, inspiring touch. 
 Essex by London is so universally sad and grey. 
 
 Casswade 's portable '* office " had been shifted 
 from Mandalay Gardens to the upper end of the 
 new street in process of formation in the rear. 
 The houses in actual course of erection were at 
 the lower end. Halfway along, picking his way 
 between various mounds of earth and material, 
 Casswade halted, as if to take stock before going 
 farther. Then he went on, carefully and keenly. 
 His objective was Number One, through one of 
 the finished windows of which a flickering light 
 gave a clue to the hammering sound ; but he 
 paused a while in turn before each gaping doorway 
 in the rear, sensing the silence within the shell, 
 and undoubtedly mistrustful of it . Once, stepping 
 backward in his suspicious absorption, he all but 
 walked over the brink of a deep sandpit dug in 
 
 L.s. p 
 
2IO LOW SOCIETY 
 
 one of the gardens — a pit destined to be refilled 
 with rubbish and then carefully re -turfed as virgin 
 soil. And so he made his way along the block. 
 It would have been comprehensible in an imagina- 
 tive man to stand and reflect that his own money 
 and brains had transformed this naked breadth of 
 field-land into a rapidly-filling human hive. But 
 Casswade had admittedly no trace of imagination 
 in him. 
 
 Bang ! Bang-bangetty-bang-^fl/z^ ! went the 
 hammer of the busy man in Number One — Street 
 as yet unnamed. 
 
 " Hullo," said Casswade, his head suddenly 
 jutting into the halo of light above the landing 
 balustrade. 
 
 " Hullo," said Josh, simply sitting back. Either 
 he had very sound nerves, or no nerves at all. 
 
 " Still at it, then? " Casswade leaned over a 
 trestle and watched. As many people knew, with- 
 out knowing of a reason, there existed between 
 Casswade and his nonchalant foreman a tacit 
 understanding — almost a camaraderie — which had 
 never once appeared to waver. One of the most 
 potent proofs was that Casswade never questioned 
 the personal weekly bill for overtime -payment put 
 in by his foreman. "How's all the kids?" 
 
 " Thought I'd get this flooring done, in case," 
 Josh replied, ignoring the more delicate query. 
 
 He lit his pipe and went on, driving in the 
 square nails with a monotonous precision that 
 Casswade tired of watching. He paid for it — 
 that was enough. 
 
 " Well, I shall give 'em a Chris 'mas box all 
 round, as usual," Casswade remarked, rousing. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 211 
 
 " But all the same, you have been a damned fool 
 to yourself, ain't you? Any more complaints? " 
 
 ** Only what I told you of this afternoon," said 
 Josh, apparently without resentment. - 
 
 ** Oh, ay, I was up here before tea, wasn't I? 
 Blowed if I hadn't forgotten. You want nine 
 heads nowadays." He took something from his 
 pocket and tossed it carelessly across. *' You're 
 a bloomin' thought -reader : what d'you make o' 
 that?" 
 
 Josh leaned back, read the letter in his brief 
 fashion, and seemed disinclined to make anything 
 sensational of it. 
 
 ** He's goin' to pay you back in a lump the 
 twenty -five quid you lent him." 
 
 "Jest what struck me." Casswade slapped 
 his thigh, and laughed out. " I never lent it him 
 really ; I arranged with the Loan Society to let it 
 stand over to me at three -and -a -half per cent. — 
 that's the funny part of it. Still, I can do with 
 a bit o' cash — never more so. That's what it is, 
 then : this pal of his has done him a turn, and 
 very likely *11 take a house to be near him and the 
 money. I'm on him. Rummy thing, you know," 
 he went on, lowering his husky voice confiden- 
 tially. " We had our own thoughts all along about 
 this 'ere Hungerford feller, didn't we ? He ain't 
 exactly what he makes out, I mean, and never 
 was. Walks like a real Duke, and talks a sight 
 better than any I've seen. And I shouldn't be a 
 bit surprised if there's money behind somewhere, 
 only it's tied up somehow. That's what's struck 
 me, at any rate, all along. Why, you never know 
 if a man like that, who'd give a bloomin' step- 
 
 P 2 
 
2 12 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 cleaner a quid to go and get change, mightn't be 
 tryin* one o' the houses before he bought up a 
 dozen as an investment on his own. That ring 
 he wore was worth a hundred half-crowns. And 
 he listened hard enough, when I bunged it into 
 him about bricks and mortar for money." 
 
 " You never know," mused Josh, who had in- 
 vested in children himself, and could not look for 
 any dividends for years to come. 
 
 " Why " — Casswade grew warm over it — *' ask 
 yourself. Here's a man done not a stroke o* work 
 for months " 
 
 " I dunno," put in Josh, one eye shut. '* The 
 woman at Number Three told my missis he goes 
 out every morning now at twenty to nine, and 
 comes home after dusk." 
 
 " That woman? " said Casswade, with derision. 
 " She'd say any thin'. Ain't that the one that goes 
 all round to look at the other wimmen's curtains, 
 and calls her kids ' Sybil,' and ' Phyllis,' and 
 ' Marmalade,' or somethin' o' the sort? " 
 
 *' She borrowed a new-laid egg and some 
 paraffin off my missis, and ain't said anything 
 about it," Josh admitted absently. He removed 
 a piece of bruised skin from his thumb, and 
 handed back Hungerford's letter. " That's why 
 he's asked you, I reckon. He's that sort. A 
 toff's notions, like — does his business in a draw- 
 ing-room over a cigar." 
 
 " All very well," Casswade ruminated. ** But 
 I ain't a toff, if I look one. If he'd only said, 
 * Come round to tea,' I might have had a handle 
 to lay hold of ; but I dunno whether to answer 
 or not. Y'see, I left myself awk'ard, lettin' him 
 
LOW SOCIETY 213 
 
 think I was a married man. Did I tell you? — 
 he called round one night last week when I was 
 out. Blowed if she didn't keep it up on her own, 
 and let him call her ' Mrs. Casswade ' ! " 
 
 ** Well — take her," Josh said, briefly, looking at 
 his hammer-head. 
 
 ** Her ! " He stared ; although the same 
 thought had, of course, been made to flit once 
 through his own mind by association of ideas. 
 
 " What's the odds? — you'll have no more to do 
 with any of 'em when this block's finished. Just 
 for the look o' the thing — if you reckon there's 
 any bis'ness in it." 
 
 "You would?" 
 
 ** I shouldn't make no bones myself. Just tell 
 her beforehand to keep to ' good -evening,' and 
 so on. Nothing in it." 
 
 He went on with his banging. Casswade re- 
 mained staring uncertainly. " On'y for an hour 
 or so, ain't it?" the latter muttered more than 
 once. ** There might be somethin' in it." 
 
 A phrenologist could have told him truthfully 
 that he had no more finesse than he had sense of 
 humour. He could more than hold his own in any 
 crowded public -house bar, but he could not con- 
 template without vague uneasiness making a social 
 third or fourth in Hungerford's parlour unless 
 there was a familiar foil of some sort present. It 
 was a disinclination that arose naturally from his 
 misogynic mode of life. 
 
 " I'd take a dozen bloomin' wives, if I thought 
 there was anythin' comin' of it," he said, with an 
 attempt at heroic indifference. " I might touch 
 on it, and see how she behaves. She'd have to 
 
2 14 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 do it, if I told her, of course. I ain't goin' to 
 offend 'em and let bis'ness slip over any trifle like 
 that. What's up with him?*' He jerked his 
 thumb to indicate the unfinished houses beyond. 
 ** I couldn't see anythin' of him anywhere. Don't 
 believe he's doin' his bit lately." 
 
 '*Yes, he is/' Josh said. ''He's " He 
 
 paused to strike another match. It annoyed Cass- 
 wade. 
 
 ** Why don't you put some 'bacca in it, and get 
 a proper draw? Don't be so bloomin' mean. 
 " Here I " He flung down his own pouch. 
 "Well?" 
 
 Josh got up and looked over the balustrade 
 ** He's here somewhere. He come up this stair 
 on tiptoe twice since the men went, and went back 
 when he saw me here." 
 
 ** Oh I " Casswade peered into the shadowy 
 recesses around somewhat uncomfortably. ** Well, 
 it pays ; but I'm gettin' a bit fed-up with these 
 creepy ways of his, and I don't mind sayin' it." 
 
 ** You'll get more so," said Josh, looking up a 
 little abruptly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 ** Why, you've let him carry it too far. You 
 never show up when he's about. He knows me 
 and all the men, but I dunno what he thinks you 
 dire, or whether — whether he's got any memory 
 left over. He might have." 
 
 ** You're a cheerin' cuss, you are," Casswade 's 
 sunken voice came after a pause. ** What d'you 
 mean to say? Could I help it if he went to 
 smash ? I on'y helped one or two people to get 
 what he owed 'em before it busted." He straight- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 215 
 
 ened up, as Josh made no audible answer. "I'm 
 goin' to get rid of him," he said, with sudden 
 decision. 
 
 '* You'll have a job." Josh looked steadily at 
 the wall. ** He's got a lot of his own old con- 
 tract-forms in his pocket, I'm told. Looks as if 
 he's only waitin' for the wallpapers to go up here. 
 You've kept too much out of his way ; there's no 
 doubt o' that." 
 
 Another pause. Both seemed to be listening 
 for the soft tread of a dumb, daft man in the 
 littered solitude out there. Then — " Where is 
 he?" Casswade demanded, with a quick stride 
 toward the stair. 
 
 It looked like Dutch courage, long deferred. 
 Still, Casswade, when worked up, was an awkward 
 handful. Josh followed him, keeping close 
 behind. Down they went. 
 
 " There he is," he whispered at length, holding 
 Casswade 's arm. 
 
 " Where ? " Casswade 's puffy face looked a 
 little pallid. 
 
 " There. Fourth house down — standin' still just 
 inside the kitchen. He's lookin' straight over at 
 us ... . Your eyes ain't goin', are they?" 
 
 " Fetch a candle, or a lamp, or somethin',*^ 
 Casswade said, after a moment. " I thought it 'ud 
 come to this sooner or later, I don't mind tellin* 
 you." 
 
 The candle was brought. Casswade carefully 
 led the way round to the front of the houses. 
 They entered the fourth together, the candle flar- 
 ing, their feet ringing hollowly, their voices sound- 
 ing very loud in the emptiness. 
 
2i6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " He's gone," Josh said, in an undertone. They 
 had come out at the rear. " He's gone .... 
 No, he ain't." He clutched the other's arm again. 
 ** Don't do nothin'. Just loolc up." 
 
 Casswade looked up. From out the darkness 
 enveloping the bare brick landing overhead, faintly 
 haloed in their candlelight, a face looked back at 
 him. It was pale, and tufted all round with black 
 hair resembling at that distance a strip of plush 
 around plaster features. Unlike his own, the eyes 
 in it had no idea of wavering consciously ; yet 
 there was nothing alarming in their steady fixity 
 — only calm, challenging curiosity. It might have 
 been thought that, could he speak, he would have 
 said : ** If you really wish to inspect with a view 
 to purchase, gentlemen, you cannot do better ! " 
 
 Then, quite calmly and naturally, and with his 
 arms linked behind him — as well as they might 
 judge in that light — he had turned and was coming 
 down the stair. Till he got halfway, Casswade 
 stood firm. Then, as he paused and appeared to 
 be watching for any hint on their part of felonious 
 design against the property, Casswade 's nerve gave 
 way in curious fashion. 
 
 He turned unsteadily for the front exit. Josh, 
 taken aback for the instant and then following, 
 was genuinely surprised to see him striding away 
 in the direction of the main road and the lights and 
 electric cars. 
 
 ** That means three drinks for a start," Josh 
 conjectured, looking after him. " He'd better 
 have kept off it, as I told him .... He'd better 
 have had nineteen children, and no money." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " There ! " said Hungerford*s Ella to herself, 
 with a little sigh of secret satisfaction. 
 
 It was about half -past six o'clock, that next 
 evening ; Hungerford's key might click in the lock 
 at any moment now. He might be wearied — he 
 frequently was a little more exhausted than he felt 
 able to explain ; but he always spared a minute to 
 look around and appreciate her handiwork before 
 sitting down to his meal. Ella was one of the 
 women to whom appreciation means so much more 
 than they can ever tell ; and this was the hour for 
 which every day she lived. 
 
 She had given a last brightening touch to the 
 steel -work upon the grate, and flicked away the 
 only visible speck of ash. She took a tremendous 
 pride in this kitchen, and only mourned because 
 the oven seemed incapable of proving her baking 
 abilities, and because the fire declined to " draw " 
 unless the wind was in one particular direction — 
 small eccentricities which, Josh had thought pro- 
 bable, must right themselves in the course of time. 
 The reason why the woodwork throughout the 
 house had warped and cracked so strangely, he 
 could only surmise, was due to the fact that in a 
 fit of inadvertency Casswade had ordered ** new " 
 timber instead of the usual seasoned variety — 
 which cost a little more money. The mere fact 
 
2i8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 that the house had stood firm for so long, he 
 pointed out, was certain proof that it did not 
 intend to cave in prematurely. 
 
 The table was daintily set. Ella, her soft brown 
 hair smoothed back and gathered into a Grecian 
 knot, her small figure most matronly in the long, 
 flowing apron which completely enveloped it, stood 
 with clasped hands and waited. This was the 
 moment when she ran mentally through the whole 
 series of possible disasters any one of which might 
 overtake Hungerford on his homeward way from 
 the City. To pray mutely and regularly that they 
 might be averted seemed as childish as unavail- 
 ing ; but the fact remained that she did so pray, 
 and expected to be answered. There were the 
 motor-'buses, which she contemplated from afar 
 ofi" as resistless Juggernauts invented to create va- 
 cancies in every walk of life ; the skimming, 
 skidding cabs, which were always ** sorry " after 
 the accident ; the blindly-thundering train which 
 might plunge off the metals at any moment ; the 
 flying automobiles, which admittedly allowed no 
 law, human or Divine, to stand in the way of 
 speed -achievement and class prejudice ; and 
 
 Jim's key clicked. She ran, checking a happy 
 little cry, and put her arms quietly around him, 
 and looked up to search his face in the way known 
 to some dear, tender women. He had come out 
 of the mist into gas-light ; perhaps it was that — , 
 with the contrasting darkness of his hair and 
 moustache — which made him appear a little more 
 sallow and drawn of jaw than yesterday. 
 
 " You haven't been coughing more to-day. 
 Boy?" she asked. She had taken his hat and 
 
LOW SOCIETY 219 
 
 wiped his forehead. "You are sure? — quite 
 sure?" 
 
 ** No, no, no — nothing to speak of to-day ! " 
 
 He laughed, pressed her to him, and in a minute 
 more was at rest at the dainty table, in his own 
 home, the world shut out. Singing softly to her- 
 self in sheer suppressed joy, his Ella tripped about, 
 and refrained from kissing him or asking a single 
 question until his plate and cup were pushed back. 
 Then, without a word, she lifted down his briar 
 pipe and the ash-tray. This always surprised and 
 pleased him. 
 
 " My thoughtful little woman," he said, his 
 hand resting upon hers a moment. The simple 
 truth was, he was as happy as a man could be, and 
 owed it all to her — and knew it. 
 
 She propped her arms upon the table, her face 
 in her hands, and watched him as he puffed con- 
 tentedly. It was as if there were something new 
 to be discovered in him every day, after his long 
 absence in the City. But she was preparing to 
 spring upon him one of her small feminine sur- 
 prises. 
 
 " You'll leave off that suit to-morrow, and wear 
 the dark check one for a fortnight, and then the 
 navy-blue," she said. 
 
 "Why? It's new — — " he began, taking the 
 pipe from his mouth to stare. She simply pushed 
 it back, to silence him. 
 
 " Because you are to. Because wife knows best. 
 And because I've put new flannel -linings into both 
 of them. That's enough. Was it hard in the 
 office to-day. Boy?" 
 
 " Well, no ; I'm gradually getting used to it." 
 
220 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 He always had this answer ready. " We won*t 
 talk about that now.** 
 
 " We will,*' she said. *' Because if it is not 
 what you expected — or if the position is ever un- 
 bearable — I mean you to leave it, and we'll think 
 of something else. Don't think I don't know I 
 What have you been doing to-day? " 
 
 " Simply writing," he laughed ; *' and casting 
 up accounts." 
 
 ** Do they — do they ever refer to the past, or 
 wonder why you are there, or try to speak to you 
 when you leave the office? " she ran on, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 ** Well, no," he said again, one hand moving 
 over his eyes. " Perhaps they think I am mad, 
 because I don't care to talk. As for Mr. Vaughan 
 himself, the Chief — he knows. I had to tell him — 
 of course. But he's a gentleman. Don't worry, 
 dear ; whether I like it or not, I have to go 
 through with it now ; and I'm going to." 
 
 In the pause, as Ella gazed intently into space, 
 there carried a vague sound into the warm still- 
 ness of the kitchen. Ella looked at Hungerford. 
 
 ** Not a knock? " her lips moved, questioningly. 
 
 ** Scarcely," he said. It was more as if a half- 
 filled sack had been bumped against the street 
 door and left there. And presently it came again. 
 
 Hungerford got up, walked down the passage, 
 and opened the door. He stood so long, appa- 
 rently doing nothing, that Ella thought it time to 
 call to him. 
 
 " I think you'd better come," he turned his 
 head to answer. 
 
 Drawn back in the misty, shadowy niche of the 
 
LOW SOCIETY 221 
 
 hall porch Ella made out a woman's figure. Her 
 face, that looked very swollen and colourless, was 
 stubbornly averted, and she held a handkerchief to 
 her lips. Hungerford was still plucking gently 
 at her arm, but she resisted, and appeared merely 
 wistful to retain that inconclusive position. 
 
 " Why, it's Miss Shadd— Selina ! " Ella said, 
 in a sort of awe. It was. At the sound of her 
 name, she gave a long, wailing sob sufficient in 
 its intensity to indicate trouble. But still she 
 resisted. 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " Ella whispered. ** Poor child, 
 whatever can it be? Where's — where's Mr. 
 Baversham? " 
 
 " Dead ! " The announcement came with a 
 truly unnerving vehemence. Her arms out, she 
 was turning as if to grope away after delivering 
 her information. '* He's gone — he's dead. Let 
 me go — let me go to him — that's all I came to 
 ask 1 " 
 
 The neighbours in Mandalay Gardens were par- 
 ticularly quick in detecting anything out of the 
 common, and equally slow in forgetting it after- 
 wards. Acting on impulse, Hungerford slipped 
 both arms around the retreating figure, and lifted 
 it bodily into privacy, while Ella stood ready to 
 close the door. It was no light task, and brought 
 beads of perspiration out on his forehead ; but it 
 was done. Selina collapsed on the bottom stair, 
 and bit her handkerchief convulsively and sent 
 out a prolonged desolate wail by turns. This, 
 her second surprise visit to the Hungerfords at 
 Number Nine, seemed charged with even more 
 tragic uncertainty than the first. 
 
222 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 By degrees the disturbing noises died down. 
 She bumped back inertly against the wall, her 
 swollen white face looking out as at something 
 that assuredly no one else could expect to see. 
 Hungerford deemed it safe to say something. 
 
 ** Come ! " he said, with concern ; ** not that 
 look ! Did your parents know you were coming 
 here to us? ** 
 
 ** No," she moaned. ** I want you to tell them, 
 after my body's found." 
 
 *' Oh, nonsense 1 " He waited, while Ella ran 
 precipitately upstairs for her eau de Cologne and 
 anything else reviving she could find. Selina 
 gave gasping little sobs, as the scent was showered 
 thickly upon her upturned face. " Now," he ven- 
 tured ; " you're much better. Only keep calm, 
 and we'll see what can be done about it." 
 
 " Nothing," she asserted, feebly, *' except to 
 find him and bury him. I thought of you, and I 
 came. You can do nothing more." 
 
 Hungerford looked at his Ella. If true, it was a 
 trying commission to be brought thus abruptly 
 to their door. On the surface, it seemed far more 
 feasible that Baversham's young woman, as Ella 
 had feared, was mentally deficient. 
 
 He stooped. " Well, you see, you put us in 
 rather an awkward position. We can't tell what 
 you mean, or what has happened. If you'll 
 only " 
 
 They held their breath as Selina, with many a 
 body-shaking sob, slowly extracted from some- 
 where in her breastfolds something that had once 
 been an envelope. Inside, just legible still to the 
 naked eye, were the momentous lines Baversham 
 
LOW SOCIETY 223 
 
 had penned in eternal farewell. Hungerford and 
 his Ella scanned them in silence so deep that the 
 heart's beat was audible. 
 
 "When was this written?" Hungerford whis- 
 pered. And the dull, thrilling whisper answered. 
 
 ** Thursday. The night he died — a week 
 ago." 
 
 *' That's very strange, then," he said, staring, 
 with a sudden recollection. " I saw him on Satur- 
 day ; and he never said a syllable about — about 
 dying." 
 
 Selina clutched at him and slowly lifted herself. 
 " You saw him? " she rattled. " Alive? " 
 
 '* Certainly I — as much alive as you and I are. 
 Don't you hear? — I spoke with him. Why, when 
 I think of it, he looked as ordinary and cheerful 
 as possible." 
 
 ** You're not " Selina had begun to shake 
 
 all over afresh — *' You're not saying this to — 
 to get rid of me? Think I — think if it was Mrs. 
 Hungerford, and she suddenly heard you were 
 lying at the bottom of the river." 
 
 *' Oh, don't I " Ella cried, beginning to sob in 
 turn. ** Oh, don't 1 " Hungerford thought it 
 time to arrive at something definite, 
 
 '* Look here," he said, ** I believe you'll find you 
 are worrying over nothing at all. What is the 
 time? — twenty past seven. Wait here, and I'll 
 run out and telephone to him — or to the nearest 
 call -office. Just give me his address, quick " 
 
 " I can't," Selina wailed, with access of misery. 
 ** He's dead. I feel it — I knew his temper. I 
 wrote to him there, and it came back, marked 
 ' Gone away.' Here it is 1 I shall be gone too. 
 
224 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 by morning ; you'll never see me again, either of 
 you. He's killed me, and you'll know it." 
 
 To combat the impression was evidently beyond 
 one man's power. Hungerford looked at the 
 address on the returned letter — then at Ella — and 
 took his decision in both hands. He drew on hat 
 and overcoat again, whispered to his wife, and 
 grasped Selina's arm gently but firmly. 
 
 " You come with me," he said. " We'll find 
 out something better than this, I hope. And you 
 can tell me all about it as we go along." 
 
 Beyond an incoherent choke at intervals, how- 
 ever, as she stumbled along beside him, clutching 
 his arm, nothing had come from Selina's lips when 
 at length they paused, after nearly an hour's 
 strange tramp. And secretly he had become 
 rather glad of her silence. There were signs that 
 an attempt on her part to break it might have 
 induced another collapse and made him the most 
 uncomfortable, most talked -of man in Barking 
 Town that night. 
 
 " There ! " she gasped, pointing to a row of lit 
 windows that suddenly loomed in the obscurity of 
 the Beckton road. " There ! It's the first house. 
 Oh, what shall Ido? " 
 
 "Why," Hungerford said, in quiet desperation, 
 ** I think you'd better do just what I advise. Now, 
 do you know which rooms were his ? " 
 
 " The — the two at the back ; the top and 
 bottom. Oh, if you leave me ! " 
 
 " And there's a light in the lower one, I'm 
 almost sure. Yes, there is I Now, Miss Shadd, 
 I'm doing all I can for you ; in return, you need 
 only keep quiet a few minutes. Follow close 
 
LOW SOCIETY 225 
 
 behind me, and say not a word of any kind till I 
 tell you. Can you promise just that? " 
 
 Selina was understood to whisper that she could. 
 They walked quietly on, and halted in front of the 
 house. It being the first in the row, Hungerford 
 looked for a side -path from the gateway round to 
 the rear ; and found it. This was helpful, because 
 he had decided that a knock at the front door 
 that night would draw a blank. He pressed Se- 
 Iina*s arm in warning. Burglariously careful, they 
 made a way along the side -path and drew up close 
 to the lit window. Selina's throat threatened 
 another perilous series of sounds. 
 
 " Be still I " Hungerford breathed. All the 
 same, it was an eerie moment. Facing that pro- 
 blematical drawn blind, they stood on the verge 
 of the unknown. He knew that his own heart was 
 going double time. 
 
 He stepped suddenly up and drummed against 
 the glass. 
 
 There was an uncertain stumble beyond ; then 
 silence. He drummed quickly again, and bent 
 close, saying as distinctly as he dared : " It's all 
 right — it is only II*' 
 
 One more nameless stare of suspense, and then 
 — " Stand back behind me ! " Hungerford sig- 
 nalled to Selina. The edge of the blind had been 
 curled back about an eighth of an inch. Half an 
 eye was peering out . Was it familiar ? — was it ? 
 How Selina bore herself, would never be ascer- 
 tained. Bit by bit the blind curled back, and 
 then—" Not a sound ! Don't move I " Hungerford 
 whispered to her. He could have sent up a shout, 
 himself. As he had more than half expected, the 
 
 L.S. Q 
 
226 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 face looking out at him was that of the living 
 Baversham . 
 
 " Who is it ? " Baversham asked, a little thickly. 
 "What, Mr. Hungerford— you ? *' 
 
 " Ay I Just a word with you. I have bad news 
 of— her:* 
 
 The blind dropped very abruptly. There was 
 another stumbling sound, and then the bolts of a 
 door were being drawn. It opened. Baversham, 
 in his shirtsleeves, and with dishevelled hair, 
 appeared . 
 
 ** You don't say — you don't tell me she's " 
 
 The husky query ended short. He retreated 
 backwards into his room. Before he could realise, 
 the door had closed again, and Hungerford stood 
 inside, pale but smiling, and grasping the figure 
 of the limp woman who had given one look and 
 then incontinently swooned. 
 
 ** I won't have her," George gasped, staccato, 
 standing rooted. " You've done no good ; I 
 won't have her here, at any price." 
 
 ** I'm afraid you'll have to — for a few minutes," 
 the other man said. " Come, don't be a fool, old 
 chap — bring a chair or something — she's heavy. 
 Afterwards, you can do what you like." 
 
 Baversham pushed forward his arm-chair, and 
 then retreated determinedly again to the farthest 
 wall. 
 
 ** Understand," he began again, as Hungerford 
 started to fan the piteous upturned face, ** under- 
 stand, before she comes to, I've done with her — 
 done with the whole fam'ly." And Hungerford 
 paused in his work. 
 
 " Then," he whispered across, " find some dif- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 227 
 
 ferent way of telling her so. You didn't think, 
 but there might have been an inquest after all. 
 If I were you, I'd lock that inner door, brush my 
 hair, and face it like a man." 
 
 " You dunno her,** George muttered, at bay. 
 " She comes of artful stock. You dunno half. I'll 
 bet she's listenin' to every word. Look at her ! " 
 
 And it was coincidental that, at that instant, 
 Selina's heavy eyes unclosed a little. ** George,** 
 she whimpered. ** George ! You're going to 
 speak ! " 
 
 ** Not me," George said, with callous decision, 
 folding his arms. ** I ain't particular, but I do 
 draw the line somewhere. You can fool Mr. Hun- 
 gerford a treat, but you can't fool me." 
 
 '* I never tried. I've loved you all — all along," 
 she wailed. '* If you'll only listen 1 — but you 
 won't 1 " 
 
 '* No, I won't. Too late, my gel. Now, it's 
 no use snivellin' or puttin' your arms out to me 
 like that," George retorted, pointing to the in- 
 evitable with emphasis. " I've done all the lis- 
 tenin' I'm ever goin' to do — outside that back 
 parlour winder o' yours. If you don't want Mr. 
 Hungerford to know all about it, you'd best pull 
 yourself together and buzz off home. You can 
 stand up all right — you won't fall down ! " 
 
 Stung to it, Selina struggled upright. Hunger- 
 ford, a reluctant, amazed onlooker, felt himself in 
 decidedly a false and worsening position. 
 
 '* Now, it's like this " he interposed, pacific- 
 ally. 
 
 •• Excuse me, it's like this," Baversham put in, 
 in full tones. " You're a gentleman every inch, 
 
 Q 7' 
 
228 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and I'm only sorry I brought a woman like that 
 into your house " 
 
 "Me?" Selina queried, almost at suffocation- 
 point. 
 
 " You I I'm pointin' my finger plain enough, 
 I believe. I don't say you can help havin' a 
 greasy, graspin' tyke for a father ; but you can 
 help — there, no, I ain't goin' to discuss it. If 
 you've come here to give me back my ring, put it 
 down on that table, and there's an end of it." 
 
 '* Never," Selina gasped, faintly but resolutely. 
 ** You can't take it from me. Never, George I " 
 
 " Calls me ' George ' ! " He appealed pathetic- 
 ally to the audience. " What would you say, Mr. 
 Hungerford, if you'd found out that your young 
 woman only wanted you for what you'd got in the 
 bank, and had called you a ' measly, freckled 
 outsider ' ? " 
 
 ** Liar," choked the accused. *' What did you 
 just call my father ? ' ' 
 
 *' Hold your tongue — you've got no case. I 
 have. I've got cast-iron, absolute proof that you 
 and your fam'ly thought they'd got me for a mug. 
 I've had my doubts all along, but I didn't bring 
 any away from that parlour winder." 
 
 ** Well, granting it's all a very mysterious, in- 
 volved affair," Hungerford ventured again, ** if 
 you'll only let me speak, I should say it began 
 in a misunderstanding — as far as Miss Shadd is 
 concerned, at any rate. If you leave it at 
 that, you may have ruined both your lives 
 and " 
 
 " Mine's already ruined," Baversham an- 
 nounced, bitterly. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 229 
 
 " And what of mine? " implored Selina, not to 
 be outdone. 
 
 "Yours? I dunno and don't care — *cept that 
 you ain't goin' to save it with my money and my 
 name. So there ! " 
 
 *' Hush ; try and think I " Hungerford started 
 afresh, his hand up to check each in turn. '* I 
 am perfectly sure you both mean well ; but it isn't 
 likely you can say all you wish to say before a 
 third person. Now, I suggest that I walk up and 
 down the road outside while you talk things over 
 together in private " 
 
 George took a hasty step forward — Selina took 
 one backward. 
 
 ** You won't," George said, very solemnly. 
 " You'll be sorry for her, if you do." 
 
 ** I wouldn't be left with him," said Selina, 
 wringing her hands. '* He's not in a fit state to 
 talk. Look at him ! " 
 
 George, who was always direct in his method, 
 had just bared his teeth at her, and grinned 
 horribly. 
 
 With a deep breath, Hungerford looked at his 
 watch. That innocent action, maybe, did more to 
 clear the atmosphere than a string of appeals : it 
 was so suggestive of the flight of precious time 
 and opportunity. Selina turned to the wall, leaned 
 against it, and burst into a fit of different, almost 
 soundless, weeping. 
 
 *' That's real I Comfort her I " Hungerford 
 begged, in a whisper. " Take no notice of me. 
 Dry her eyes, man ! " 
 
 " What, and let her think I'm goin' to do it for 
 life ? You don't understand what there is behind 
 all this." 
 
230 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** Do you ? " Hungerford put a gripping hand on 
 his shoulder. " Old chap, if I didn't want to 
 help you, I shouldn't be here. Look here — do 
 you care for her in the least? " 
 
 " I did," George admitted, between his teeth. 
 And Hungerford swerved round. 
 
 " Miss Shadd — Selina — do you really love him ? " 
 
 " Love him I " she sobbed, her hands hard to- 
 gether. " He knows it, as he stands there — the 
 cruel 1 " 
 
 ** And have you ever said or done anything to 
 turn him against you in this manner? " 
 
 " Never I " The handkerchief nearly came in 
 halves. " Before Heaven ! " 
 
 ** There you are — in a nutshell," said Hunger- 
 ford. ** If you can't believe a voice like that, you 
 can't believe anything. Come along I " 
 
 He propelled the dazed, resisting Baversham 
 across the room. Selina lifted her swollen 
 face, half in fear ; they were eye to eye, scarcely 
 breathing. 
 
 ** You beauty," Baversham muttered, huskily. 
 " You've broke my heart, you have. What d'you 
 think o' yourself, eh? " 
 
 " George, tell the truth," she faltered. " How 
 many times have I put my arm round your neck 
 and told you I wouldn't live another minute with- 
 out you ? ' ' 
 
 " Bravo I " Hungerford said, astutely shepherd- 
 ing the position. *' That's cornered him. What 
 do you say to that, George?" 
 
 '* Why, I ask her, what about the money, and 
 my measly, freckly face ? — her father's own de- 
 scription of me, if I never move." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 231 
 
 " But never mine," she averred, gathering 
 courage. " I can't help being his daughter. 
 What's freckles to me? And if you think I only 
 wanted you for your money, you can take it and 
 throw it down the nearest drain — or give it in 
 a lump to Mr. Hungerford on the spot. Can I 
 say more? " 
 
 ** That she can't," Hungerford decided, quite 
 cheerfully. " George, you can't afford to lose a 
 woman who'll make that sacrifice for love. Im- 
 possible 1 " 
 
 " Does she mean it? — that's the thing," queried 
 George, still glaring, but obviously softened. And 
 that pause left Hungerford his opportunity. 
 
 " Yes," he said, quietly. " I'll stake my 
 honour upon that. That's settled ; I'll wait out- 
 side." 
 
 He dragged up the reluctant Baversham's arm, 
 slid it around Selina's willing waist in a limp 
 embrace, and then turned quickly and went out, 
 drawing the door gently to behind him. 
 
 The night air, as it closed around him, struck 
 very chilly ; and only now the damp ground out 
 here reminded him that he had not waited to 
 change his thin house -shoes. Once or twice he 
 shivered inertly, and several times had hard work 
 to keep a cough within decent limits. But this 
 was only a detail, lost in a pardonable tingle of 
 happiness in having achieved what had seemed 
 the starkly-impossible. 
 
 To and fro he tiptoed, anxious to be away, and 
 yet not willing to curtail by a moment such a 
 vital reconciliation. Only once he permitted him- 
 self a furtive glance through the crack of the 
 
232 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 door ajar — and was glad to look quickly away 
 again. It could not honestly be said that Baver- 
 sham's attitude indicated either complete convic- 
 tion or uxorious abandonment ; but that of Selina 
 chased away any stray misgivings . She had both 
 her arms around his neck, and was gazing into his 
 face with love and belief unutterable. In point 
 of fact, as far as Hungerford could gauge, scarcely 
 a dozen words passed between them on this me- 
 morable occasion. 
 
 At last — at long last — the door opened. Selina 
 emerged, with a deep sigh. Baversham, a little 
 way behind, put out his hand rather sheepishly. 
 It was gripped eloquently. 
 
 That was all. They found themselves moving 
 back along the side -path by which they had come, 
 and so out into the homeward road. And, some- 
 how or other, it was not until the glow of Barking 
 Town lights reddened the air about them, and 
 their ways turned apart — his to the right, hers to 
 the left — that Hungerford felt himself able to 
 touch upon that night's great victory of love over 
 black doubt and despair. 
 
 " Well," he asked, as her hand fell from his. 
 *' Do you feel any happier than you did? " 
 
 ** Ye — es, a little — ever so much, thank you," 
 Selina whispered. " He's going to think it over, 
 and let me know in a week." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 ** Now, mind," said Mr. Casswade, on a sepul- 
 chral note full of dark finality, " let's have no 
 nonsense. He's a gentleman. You be the same. 
 You know jest what I mean." 
 
 They were turning the comer into Mandalay 
 Gardens. (More correctly, they had just met 
 there, as by accident.) A thousand times, at 
 least, in all sorts of circumstances, Mr. Casswade 
 had rolled into view around this same bend of 
 the pavement, but never with quite the same 
 inward feelings as now. It was dark enough, but 
 he would have liked a friendly fog as well. He 
 had paused, as it were, to gain time. 
 
 Once again Miss Pugh reserved her reply, re- 
 sentful or otherwise. It was probable indeed, now 
 the moment had come, that she on her side was 
 weighted with an undue sense of her strictly tem- 
 porary importance. That this had no significance 
 whatever, as had been hinted nervously several 
 times that afternoon, was beside the point. 
 
 Unlike himself, she had risen to the brief occa- 
 sion with a rigid serenity, even a touch of 
 conscious hauteur. Secretly it staggered him, as 
 the worst he had counted upon was an inane titter 
 now and again. From the feminine point of view, 
 in short, the '* for one night only " element had 
 lent the position a tint of ethereal romance which 
 had no reflection whatever in Mr. Casswade 's 
 
234 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 male mind. She had a sudden, second-hand sense 
 of the wifely, and even the maternal ; and she 
 carried herself as if she meant to maintain it for 
 all it was worth. " If I feel all the time it is 
 mere make-believe, however harmless," she had 
 flustered him by remarking, ** I might spoil my 
 part. But I shan't." 
 
 She looked markedly cool and composed ; 
 whereas he, spite of several steadying nips prior to 
 starting out, felt hot outwardly and chilly within. 
 He resented it. As he mopped his forehead, he 
 took final furtive stock of her appearance. It 
 was true that he had himself donned his Sunday 
 silk hat and the tight frock-coat ; but Miss Pugh 
 eclipsed this. She had emerged in a stylish 
 costume that he could not remember having seen 
 before, with gloves, hat, and even umbrella -top, 
 to match. 
 
 '* Needn't have got yourself up to that extent at 
 all," he fumed. ** Anyone 'ud think we were 
 goin' to a bloomin' ball. And don't laugh ; I 
 don't like that laugh." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Miss Pugh, loftily working 
 her umbrella -tip along the kerb -groove, ** I didn't 
 intend to lower you^ I admit. If we had been any- 
 thing to each other, you would have wished to 
 be proud of me, I should imagine." 
 
 He was about to reply. Just at that moment 
 some invisible person with a clarinet somewhere 
 at hand broke out into " Kathleen Mavourneen." 
 Softly, involuntarily no doubt, Miss Pugh sang 
 to herself the words : " It may be for years, and 
 it may be for ever." It may have struck him 
 either as crafty malice or as perverted humour. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 235 
 
 He replaced his hat abruptly. " Come on ! " he 
 ordered. And Miss Pugh came on, looking beside 
 him like a slim, gliding eel against a porpoise. 
 With a refined little cough, and no apparent diffi- 
 dence whatever, she followed him up the flagged 
 path at Number Nine. Mr. Casswade pressed the 
 bell-push and gathered himself together. 
 
 *' If I don't like it, mind," he muttered out of 
 the corner of his mouth, "I'm comin* away." 
 
 ** So you said," she whispered, the hauteur dis- 
 tinctly uppermost. " You've only to tell them 
 you don't like it." 
 
 Mr. Casswade hardly had time for a warning 
 scowl. The door opened ; Hungerford stood there. 
 He was not exactly in " social evening " array, to 
 the other's relief ; as he had something white 
 muffled around his throat in place of a collar. 
 Mr. Casswade bowed deeply, and nearly burst his 
 frock-coat ; Miss Pugh becked and smiled as to 
 the manner bom. ** Good gracious ! " Hunger - 
 ford might have said to himself. If so, it passed 
 unnoticed. 
 
 "Why, how are you, Mr. Casswade? Excuse 
 me, I could hardly see, coming out of the light. 
 Come in I (Mr. and Mrs. Casswade, Ella !) And 
 how are you, Mrs . Casswade ? Pleased to see you 
 both. Come in — come along ! " 
 
 •' Yes, here we are. I didn't trouble to write, " 
 Casswade said loudly, mopping his forehead again. 
 He was anxious to get this apologetic preamble 
 over and forgotten, as up till the very last hour he 
 had see -sawed in his decision. "I'm no hand 
 at letter -writing. I thought you'd take it for 
 granted — you know what I mean I " 
 
236 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 *' Oh, certainly/' Hungerford agreed. There 
 was a thickness in his voice which called for some 
 explanation on his own part. *' Very unfortunate 
 — a feverish cold/' he said, smiling, as he ushered 
 them in. "In fact, I have been rather queer, and 
 obliged to keep to the house ; but I'm pleased 
 all the same." 
 
 " Nasty, dirty things, them feverish colds," said 
 Casswade, with the fog-horn blow of his own nose 
 which with him was the correct prelude to any 
 proceedings. " I've known 'em carry a man off 
 in a couple o' days. Ah, how do, Mrs. Hun- 
 gerford? " 
 
 Ella had flitted out, her face pink, her eyes 
 dancing. It was only natural that so newly -fledged 
 a housewife should feel a little flurried ; still, Miss 
 Pugh thought to herself, as she bowed and ex- 
 tended her gloved fingers with the great gracious - 
 ness due to her (temporarily) superior social 
 status, Mrs. Hungerford's idea of a large and 
 flowing apron for evening wear on such an occa- 
 sion was a little outre. In fact, in any other cir- 
 cumstances. Miss Pugh, who was of the old, precise 
 school, would have felt it modern affectation of 
 the simple life carried to an unnecessary degree. 
 
 In the next instant. Miss Pugh felt herself 
 stiffening with mortification unqualified. As Hun- 
 gerford hastily threw open the front parlour door 
 to find a place for the male visitor's hat and coat, 
 Ella made a consonant move toward the stairs ; 
 and dear always to the precise feminine mind is 
 that preliminary rustle up her hostess's staircase 
 to regions privileged to the sex. Miss Pugh, 
 bowing and smiling, had one foot lifted to ascend, 
 
LOW SOCIETY 237 
 
 when *' her husband's " voice sounded with blunt 
 deprecation. 
 
 " Here, hi ! you don't want to go up to any bed- 
 room, I'm sure — givin' all that trouble ! Certn'ly 
 not 1 This '11 do — in here, along o' mine. Why, 
 you'll want to be puttin* 'em on again before 
 you've took *em off." 
 
 It was pointed and ominous : she could scarcely 
 ignore it. *' Oh, very well," she said, just daring 
 to add to Ella, with icy sweetness : ** Mr. Cass- 
 wade is so singular in some ways, you know." 
 
 ** Is he? " breathed Casswade, as she swept by 
 him into the front room. " You be careful. My 
 word, if you ain't ! " 
 
 " This way ! " Hungerford had thrown wide 
 the door of the rear parlour in turn. "I'm afraid 
 it is not such a warm welcome as we had 
 intended " 
 
 " Tut 1 " Casswade cut him humorously short. 
 '* That's all right. I'm warm enough, and so's 
 she. Don't you apologise, mister." 
 
 A side-glimpse into the interior of this room 
 had already afforded him a mixed sense of relief 
 and partial disappointment. While it was obvious 
 that " business " was to be strictly the main con- 
 sideration, as Hungerford had made no nonsen- 
 sical, ornate preparations for his company, it was 
 also obvious that the potential business friend and 
 financier had not yet arrived, and might weigh in 
 too late with some trumpery tale about fog, late 
 trains, or prior engagements. 
 
 The two men were alone for the moment, while 
 the frou-frou of the ladies* skirts could be heard 
 faintly through the dividing wall. 
 
238 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** rm not sure what refreshment you usually 
 take, Mr. Casswade/' Hungerford said, looking 
 round at his sideboard. *' I have port and 
 lemonade, but I don't as a rule keep spirits in 
 the house unless *' 
 
 ** You don't? " Casswade cut him short again. 
 ** Then, that's all right. I thought very likely you 
 wouldn't know, and brought a drain in my pocket, 
 in case." And he drew out a thick, flat bottle, 
 holding about a pint and a half. " There, that's 
 enough for you and me and your friend, too, 
 to begin with — so to speak. Shove it in the 
 decanter ! " 
 
 The ice was broken, and he felt vastly more at 
 ease. He chose a satin-covered chair, and sat 
 down on it with a mental relief that made it 
 crack. 
 
 " Er — would you prefer this one? " Hungerford 
 enquired, wincing slightly. 
 
 " No, no, my boy." He waved his hand gener- 
 ously. ** I'm all right— this '11 do. Where's the 
 wimmen? Oh, here they are." 
 
 Miss Pugh, her fingers genteely interlaced, 
 sailed in, paused, and looked around her. She 
 seemed a little taken aback — almost blankly so, 
 in fact. Mr. Casswade took it for a natural attack 
 of ** stage -fright," which was best removed at 
 the outset. 
 
 " Sit down," he said, straightly — so like a hus- 
 band. " Don't make out you've never seen a fire 
 and a room before. Anyone 'ud think " 
 
 He checked himself ; or, rather. Miss Pugh's 
 disdainful glance up and down him — actually as if 
 at a living freak — took his breath. It had called 
 
LOW SOCIETY 239 
 
 attention to his excess of flesh ; for an instant he 
 was on the verge of suitable retaliation. As 
 she tartly took the chair in the farthest corner, he 
 made a mental note of that look, to be remembered 
 the moment the door of Number Nine closed behind 
 them . 
 
 All were seated — Miss Pugh with rigid figure 
 and lips compressed, Hungerford dreamily strok- 
 ing his dark moustache, and Ella, her hands on 
 her lap, smiling at all in turn. For a time, how- 
 ever, no one seemed to have anything to say. 
 Casswade sat and stared at the walls as long as he 
 could contain himself, and then reached out des- 
 perately for the decanter and water -jug. 
 
 " None for me, thanks," said Hungerford, 
 touching his throat significantly. 
 
 "None? No wonder you've got a feverish 
 cold." He just managed to drop the " bloomin' " 
 and substitute the technical adjective. " How 
 about Mrs. Hungerford — won't she?" And Ella 
 smilingly declined. ** I know you won't," he said 
 pointedly, looking at the temporary Mrs. Cass- 
 wade — it had been so stipulated beforehand. He 
 drank, sat back, and wondered what was going to 
 happen next. 
 
 Next moment, to his gasping amazement — little 
 short of paralysis — Miss Pugh was heard speaking 
 languidly, aristocratically. 
 
 " I don't know — I think I prefer it to port — just 
 for once — just a taste out of your glass." 
 
 She rose, took two or three deliberate, drawn- 
 out sips, wiped her lips, and sat back. If the 
 ceiling had fallen in upon her at that moment, Mr. 
 Casswade would not have been more staggered— 
 
240 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 or more gratified. Never had he had harder work 
 to keep from spitting across into the fireplace. 
 He sat and boiled inwardly. " The bloomin' 
 hussy," he said to himself. " Cocked her eye over 
 it at me. For two pins, she'd ha* said, * My lovin' 
 husband * I " 
 
 It was a bad beginning — for all except Miss 
 Pugh. It struck him that, at this rate of progres- 
 sion, the business would take a good deal of 
 forcing, to say nothing of completion. No knock 
 at the door had come as yet, and Hungerford 
 himself seemed none too eager to bring out the 
 twenty-five pounds and force them upon him as a 
 surprise -packet. In truth, Hungerford looked sin- 
 gularly preoccupied as with second thoughts. 
 
 " What's the matter with him? " Casswade felt 
 impelled to demand of Ella, presently, jerking 
 his head. 
 
 '• I think~I think," Ella said, with a little 
 breath -catch, " that he ought to see a doctor. I 
 want him to. He won*t.** 
 
 ** Wise man, too," commented Casswade. ** You 
 don't want him put on a slab and carved up like a 
 shin o' beef, do you ? That's all doctors care about 
 nowadays, ma'am. Don't believe in 'em, and never 
 did. Besides, he couldn't very well talk bis'ness 
 in bed, could he? " 
 
 " No ; of course not," Ella said, uncertainly. 
 " I don't wish him to ! " she added quickly, her lip 
 giving a resentful quiver. 
 
 " Ah, that's where you're wrong, ma'am. 
 That's where you're like all the ladies — all heart 
 and no brain," exclaimed Casswade, laying his 
 full -sized forefinger on the table. '* See what I 
 
LOW SOCIETY 241 
 
 mean? Your husband sees a chance o' doublin' 
 his money, and he's not goin' to let it slide. 
 Same with your husband's friend, so to speak. 
 Same with me. How did I make my little bit? 
 Not by lyin' in bed, ma'am. The words * bricks 
 and mortar ' fetched me out quicker than any 
 med'cine. Why, you wouldn't, I'm sure, if Mr. 
 Hungerford saw his chance to buy up a block o' 
 well-built, tasty, everlastin' houses such as these, 
 stand in his way " 
 
 ** There's a smut on your nose, dear," interposed 
 Miss Pugh, with cool, studied familiarity. 
 
 For a moment he regarded her with a speech- 
 less, apoplectic intensity. Then he remembered. 
 With the exception of " dear," it was an innocent 
 little phrase agreed upon beforehand in case his 
 language appeared to be growing too strong from 
 force of habit. Nevertheless, as he rubbed his 
 nose and relapsed into silence, he felt he could 
 cheerfully knife her where she sat — if only to 
 shorten her smile. 
 
 Ella, her lips apart, had looked from one to the 
 other, and then again at her husband. Hunger - 
 ford understood, roused heroically, and was upon 
 his feet. 
 
 '* Suppose we have a little music," he said, 
 pleasantly. ** If you care for it, that is." 
 
 '* Can't say I do, and never did," Casswade was 
 about to reply — bluntly enough to spike any such 
 proposal ; but Miss Pugh was too quick. " Oh, 
 yes, we do 1 " she said, clasping her hands as in 
 ecstasy. For an instant Mr. Casswade verily be- 
 lieved she was on the point of reaching out for 
 his tumbler again, and held his breath. But 
 
 L.S. R 
 
242 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 luckily she forebore, and looked around for a con- 
 cealed piano instead. 
 
 There was no piano. Hungerford went to a 
 cabinet, lifted down a violin and bow, and began 
 tuning the strings. Mr. Casswade smothered a 
 groan, and took the opportunity to tilt the decanter 
 again. He had known plenty of people who re- 
 quired a good deal of bringing to the point in 
 business matters ; but it seemed to him that this 
 shirking the bare mention of the subject was posi- 
 tively indecent. The one minor consolation was 
 that all fear of the temporary Mrs. Casswade be- 
 coming too confidential with Hungerford's wife, 
 seemed to be averted, Ella apparently regarding 
 her with a sort of doubtful awe. 
 
 A pause, and then down went Hungerford's 
 head over the instrument. He played it well — 
 considerably better, perhaps, than his hearers were 
 able to appreciate ; and gave them from memory 
 a selection so lengthy and intricate that more than 
 once Mr. Casswade was on the point of moving 
 from his chair. When it ended, Ella's eyes were 
 full, and Miss Pugh inclined her head in gracious 
 acknowledgment . 
 
 " Really clever," said Miss Pugh, with an 
 accent . 
 
 " What piece might it be? " Casswade felt con- 
 strained to enquire. 
 
 '* A sonata," Hungerford informed him, men- 
 tioning the composer's name. 
 
 " Never heard of it, nor him either," said Cass- 
 wade. He was getting uneasy to the point of 
 recklessness. " To tell you the truth, that 
 bloomin' classical music " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 243 
 
 ** There's a smut on your " dutifully began 
 
 Miss Pugh. This time she did not finish. He had 
 turned on her with almost a bellow. 
 
 "Shut up, will you? Keepin' on about your 
 ' smuts ' ! Look at your own nose ! " 
 
 " You forget yourself, I think, Matthew," was 
 her trembling retort. And Casswade slowly rose, 
 staring, goaded past all appreciation of conse- 
 quences. 
 
 " What ! " he gasped. '* You — you dare '* 
 
 " There's a smut on your nose,'' she reminded 
 him, with a titter. It was a sort of indirect re- 
 venge for the total failure of all her glowing anti- 
 cipations. 
 
 He fell back. What he would have said, or 
 done, was not clear. Hungerford suddenly handed 
 him a cigar, lit a match for it, and replenished 
 his glass as a prudent move. He took a gulp, and 
 was saved. 
 
 "Perhaps you prefer a song?" Hungerford 
 ventured, after the tactful lull. 
 
 " Well, blimey " Casswade began, incredu- 
 lously — recollected — and looked at Miss Pugh, 
 whose lips had just parted again. " Yes," he 
 said, desperately, " I don't mind what it is— as 
 long as you don't ask me to sing. Plenty o' time 
 for the bis'ness, no doubt. Who's goin' to start ? " 
 
 "I'm sure you sing, Mrs. Hungerford," sim- 
 pered Miss Pugh, tapping her archly with a fan 
 she had brought. " Come, now, no naughty fibs 
 to-night 1 " 
 
 " I would rather hear you, if you don't mind," 
 Ella laughed. Her cheeks burned, and her eyes 
 looked wide and very bright. " Mr. Hungerford 
 
 R 2 
 
244 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 can play anything by ear — or we have some songs. 
 Do I " 
 
 Miss Pugh, some attention at last being drawn 
 to her presence as guest, leaned her cheek on one 
 hand meditatively. It was years since she had 
 been pressed to sing, privately or publicly ; and, 
 without being too eager, she seemed inclined to 
 break the monotony of it. As Ella turned over 
 the music-sheets, she gushed youthfully, quite con- 
 scious of Mr. Casswade's lowering glare. 
 
 '* Ah, * Reenboo ! * — yes, I knew that one." 
 
 "Which?" demanded Mr. Casswade, almost 
 ferociously. 
 
 " * Reen-boo,' " she repeated, with dignity and 
 added high -society accent. And he drew a dan- 
 gerous breath. 
 
 " You mean * Rainbow,* don't you? Well, then, 
 say 'Rainbow,' and mind what you're about. 
 That's all I've got to say to you." 
 
 It was sufficiently disturbing. Hungerford 
 struck up hastily on his violin, played the prelude 
 three times, and waited. A pause, and then Miss 
 Pugh, sitting very erect, began in a quivering 
 voice, certainly soulful enough to suit the subject, 
 but pitched two notes too high, and apparently 
 going higher still. 
 
 " Help 1 " struck in Mr. Casswade hoarsely, 
 when he had endured three lines of it. Fairly 
 writhing, he brought his hand down on the table. 
 *' That's enough ; you dunno any more about 
 singin' than I do. No, excuse me, Mr. Hunger - 
 ford, I won't have her makin' a fool of herself. 
 Anythin' else you like, but not that — my nerves 
 won't stand it, and that's a fact." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 245 
 
 He was aware that all three regarded him with 
 mute misgiving, as if breathlessly suspecting 
 drink and disaster ; and the inability to explain 
 in so many words gave him a bursting, swelling, 
 purple appearance not at all reassuring. 
 
 " Contain yourself, do I ** whispered Miss Pugh, 
 fanning herself violently. "Mr. Casswade does 
 suffer so from indigestion," she thought it prudent 
 to add aside, to her hostess. 
 
 Mr. Casswade looked at her. He could not 
 speak for the moment ; but his expression was 
 valuable as a study in the diabolical. The very 
 depth of his emotion was its own antidote. In the 
 awkward pause he pulled himself together. 
 
 " Let's have a game at ha'penny nap," he sug- 
 gested, with husky sarcasm. '* Or dominoes — I 
 don't care which it is. You mustn't think I'm 
 unsociable, or anythin' o' that, Mr. Hungerford. 
 I've got my funny little ways, that's all." 
 
 *' Don't mention it," said Hungerford. " Don't 
 mention it," faintly murmured Ella in echo. Miss 
 Pugh dipped her face to the fan as if to hide a 
 titter. She had gone to such lengths in her par- 
 donable pique that she could afford to go a little 
 farther . 
 
 ** I do love whist," she said impulsively, 
 ignoring Mr. Casswade's well-nigh agonised look 
 at the mention of the word. " Not for money — 
 oh, no, of course not. We hardly ever play at 
 home. Let's see — yes, there are just four of us. 
 I should love to organise a real whist - drive, 
 wouldn't you? Just ourselves and a few other nice 
 people." 
 
 Mr. Casswade gazed hard at the ceiling — pre- 
 
246 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 sumably with professional interest in a crack up 
 there — and then deliberately drew out his watch. 
 
 " Eight -fifteen/' he pronounced slowly ; " and 
 your friend hasn't come yet." 
 
 He looked up. Ella had obviously heard 
 nothing, and Hungerford had his head inside the 
 cabinet in search of something. *' Well," said 
 Mr. Casswade to himself, " if I don't bust soon, 
 it's a marvel." 
 
 ** Ella, dear," came Hungerford's voice, *' where 
 are the cards ? Do you remember at all ? " 
 
 " Why—" she thought hard—" I think they are 
 in the drawer upstairs . We have never used them 
 yet." 
 
 '* Bad luck to begin now," muttered Casswade. 
 It was his last chance, and it was lost. Hunger - 
 ford, only too glad to oblige his company, was 
 gone. 
 
 Stark silence reigned, save for Casswade 's 
 breathing. Presently, as Hungerford's feet could 
 be heard tramping to and fro in the room over- 
 head, Ella sprang up — clearly disposed to allow 
 her guests a moment to themselves . 
 
 *' Can't you find them, dear? I'm coming ; I 
 think I know where they are." 
 
 She slipped out. Mr. Casswade folded his arms 
 and leaned across the table toward Miss Pugh . 
 
 ** Now, you beggar on horseback," he began, 
 slowly, " you've had your turn, haven't you ? Now, 
 mark me, as sure as you sit there with your 
 bloomin' fan " 
 
 It broke off. There had come a quiet rat -tat - 
 tat. Mr. Casswade swayed up, every other con- 
 sideration wiped out of existence for the moment. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 247 
 
 ** Here he is," he said. " He's come. That's 
 him." 
 
 With an involuntary roll, willing to oblige, he 
 moved out toward the front door. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ** Good evenin'. How are you, sir? " said Mr. 
 Casswade, quite affably. The front door was open. 
 His big body obscured the hall -light behind, and 
 he was a trifle short-sighted ; but it was enough 
 that the gentleman stood there, his coat -collar 
 turned up. " You look cold. Come in ! " He 
 closed the door and turned, a hand to his mouth. 
 " Your friend arrived, Mr. Hungerford — I've took 
 the liberty ! This way, sir, — we've been expectin* 
 you some time." 
 
 The gentleman followed him, and stood just 
 inside the back -parlour doorway, as if somewhat 
 surprised by the rugged warmth of his welcome. 
 Casswade dragged forward a chair and reached 
 out for the decanter, intent upon establishing 
 mutual confidence at the very outset ; Miss Pugh 
 rose, with the bow of a dowager duchess in 
 reserve. 
 
 '* Hello ! " This was Hungerford 's excla- 
 mation, as he reached the foot of the stair. 
 
 ** Hullo ! " echoed the gentleman, a little 
 lamely. Mr. Casswade, pouring the whiskey 
 without stint, made a convulsive movement as if 
 someone had jammed a pin into him from behind. 
 
 He looked. His hard -worked face took a yel- 
 lowish tint and then purpled again. He had just 
 sufficient presence of mind to set down the 
 decanter without cracking it. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 249 
 
 ** What — who's this?" he demanded, almost 
 soundlessly. And Baversham lifted his hat, with 
 a sickly little laugh. ** Good evenin', Mr. Cass- 
 wade," he said. '* Yes, I jest called in, on 
 bis'ness. I didn't expect to find anyone else 
 here." 
 
 ** Bis'ness?" Casswade, his breath coming in 
 spasms, caught upon the word. "Bis'ness? Am 
 
 I " He looked round at Hungerford. " 'Scuse 
 
 me, is this your friend? " he gasped, pointing. 
 
 ** Certainly, he is a friend of mine," said Hun- 
 gerford, mystified. ** I think you know him? " 
 
 ** Know him I .... Is this — do you mean 
 this is the * friend * you've asked here to meet 
 me?" 
 
 " Mr. Baversham ? No ; I had no idea he meant 
 to call. But " 
 
 '* It's all right," put in Baversham, his own face 
 streaked. " I don't want to put anyone out. I 
 jest dropped in to see Mr. Hungerford on a little 
 private afi'air — that he knows of — that's all. I 
 wouldn't for worlds " 
 
 '* Nonsense. Give me your hat and coat — sit 
 down," said Hungerford, a little nettled by Mr. 
 Casswade 's truculent attitude throughout — due to 
 liquor, he and Ella had convinced themselves. 
 ** We're quite an informal party. Here's Mrs. 
 Casswade — but you know Mrs. Casswade, of 
 course 1 " 
 
 Baversham, palpably overwhelmed, bowed stiffly 
 in all directions ; " Mrs. Casswade," with a doubt- 
 ful glance at her temporary spouse, bowed back. 
 Next moment, Baversham was taking off the raw 
 edge of his constraint with a glass of port ; and, 
 
250 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 amid some brave attempt at laughter, the cards 
 were being shuffled and dealt for four. 
 
 " Not me," muttered Mr. Casswade, shaking 
 his head decisively. For a moment longer he 
 had stood as in the throes of another bad attack 
 of indigestion ; then, with a mighty effort, he had 
 mastered himself and yielded under protest to the 
 staggering irony of circumstance. In truth, a 
 sort of muffling haze had crept over the proceed- 
 ings and dulled his comprehension. He was 
 swayed chaotically between the hope of ** busi- 
 ness " and an abrupt intimation to " Mrs. Cass- 
 wade '* to put on her things and come home. 
 " Not me," he said ; " you've got your four ; I 
 can wait till you're done." He half turned his 
 back, produced his big briar pipe, and smoked 
 strong black tobacco, utterly, morosely regardless 
 of anyone's susceptibilities from now. 
 
 Presently, indeed, during a lull in the game. 
 Miss Pugh hazarded a significant cough. 
 " There's a smut on your pipe, dear," she said> 
 with cunning variation, if not conciliation. "I'm 
 sure of it." 
 
 He did not even move. Staring glassily out, 
 he smoked harder than ever. He had quite done 
 with Miss Pugh for the nonce ; in fact, he had done 
 with her for evermore. He was making no further 
 pretence at sentimental interest in Hungerford's 
 little ** at home." Deepest of all, in his mental 
 cauldron, bubbled the thought that he himself had 
 ushered young Baversham on to the scene with 
 such eclat, when he could have twisted his ear and 
 slammed the door in his face as revenge for all. 
 
 Baversham, conversely, appeared to be rapidly 
 
LOW SOCIETY 251 
 
 recovering his normal nerve, and even laughed 
 right out when Miss Pugh revoked and said she 
 understood it was permissible when not playing 
 for money. Once again Mr. Casswade secretly 
 suspended his breath for the crash, as it seemed 
 humanly inevitable that Baversham must make 
 some casual reference to the fact that he had un- 
 derstood Miss Pugh to be a maiden lady. But 
 minutes went by, and the bolt had not fallen. If 
 only it were averted for the time being, and the 
 business hopes materialized, Mr. Casswade began 
 to think it was not such a deadly fiasco, after all. 
 Once rid of Miss Pugh, he could repudiate the 
 idea that he had ever known such a woman, or 
 could laugh at the whole occurrence as a designed 
 joke. 
 
 He could hardly credit his ears when, presently, 
 he heard young Baversham yawn and say that he 
 thought he must be "off." 
 
 '* Is that so? " Hungerford asked. 
 
 Yes, he said. He had one or two things to see 
 to, it being Friday — he would call in some other 
 day. He drank up his port, bowed to the com- 
 pany, and went. It was as if a dangerous bomb 
 had been removed. As the front door banged, 
 Mr. Casswade laid down his pipe and faced round. 
 
 *' Merciful relief," he said, briefly. " I don't 
 like that man. Never mind why ; we don't want 
 to talk about him. All I say is, it's a good job 
 for you you weren't playin' for cash. That's 
 enough." He took a drink, and squared his 
 shoulders for definite action. " Well, now, Mr. 
 Hungerford," he said, "there's no offence. I'm 
 sure we've had a very enjoyable hour. If you've 
 
252 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 got anythin' to say to me, as regards oar little 
 affair, while the ladies chat about nothin', I'm 
 your man." 
 
 "Our little affair?" repeated Hungerford, 
 ••What was that?" 
 
 ** What was it? Why, the house — the bis'ness 
 — anythin* you like to propose ; I leave that to 
 you, of course. You needn't be frightened to 
 speak out." 
 
 And his astonished stare followed Hungerford 's 
 glance around the walls. 
 
 " Well," Hungerford said, " I suppose it is in- 
 evitable that new wall-papers should discolour and 
 fade ; and there are one or two other little things 
 that seem to want attention ; but, generally speak- 
 ing, I think we are very well satisfied with the 
 house. Yes — very ! " 
 
 " Yes ; go on — fire away," urged Casswade, 
 stimulatingly. ** So, bein' satisfied, you and your 
 friend have agreed between you to — er — well, hang 
 it, what have you fixed up — 'scuse me?" 
 
 Hungerford glanced at his Ella, who bit her lip 
 and glanced at the floor. Casswade drew in a 
 big breath and spread himself over the table, frog- 
 like. 
 
 *' Look here, it's like this," he said, earnestly. 
 " I don't mind waitin' all night, come to that ; but 
 if you ain't prepared to make a move any way 
 without your friend, and if he really wants to do 
 bis'ness, what's keepin' him ? Why ain't he turned 
 up?" 
 
 Hungerford racked his brains as if for a 
 plausible reason. But all that came of it was a 
 thoughtful : " Which friend do you refer to ? " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 253 
 
 "Which?" Down came Casswade's knuckles 
 impetuously on the table. ** How the deuce should 
 I know? I'm here to meet the man, ain't I? I 
 can't sell a feller property in his absence, can t ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," Hungerford agreed, promptly. 
 
 A pause, while both sat breathless and motion- 
 less. Hungerford, indeed, looked as if he would 
 like to shift from his chair, but felt a little hyp- 
 notised by the other's fishy glare. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Casswade," he ventured at 
 length, pushing a hand through his hair, ** I 
 fancy you have got a little mixed. I mean, you 
 must be confounding me with someone else. I 
 do, really. I can't recall that I expected any 
 friend here to-night in particular — can you, Ella? " 
 
 Ella smoothed her dress down. What she whis- 
 pered was too vague to be of any service. With 
 tremendous calm, his head on one side, Casswade 
 leaned a little nearer still. 
 
 " P'r'aps," he said, very distinctly, " p'r'aps 
 you'll say in a minnit you didn't expect me? '' 
 
 " I didn't," shot back the frank, involuntary 
 reply. " I had no idea of it." And Mr. Cass- 
 wade sat back. 
 
 *' Well, I'm damned," he said. He looked all 
 round at them. '* 'Scuse me, but — I'm damned," 
 he repeated. " Well, strike me purple," he was 
 further impelled to add. ** Am I on my bloomin' 
 head, or what ? Where are we — who are we — and 
 what are we? " 
 
 And no one seemed able to answer a single 
 query. In the prolonged hush, Ella rose and 
 rustled from the room. Hungerford looked pale, 
 amused, and grave in turns. Miss Pugh appeared 
 
2 54 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 to have no faculties left at all, and simply sat 
 vacuous. 
 
 " In all my born days," came Casswade's voice 
 again, muffled by emotion that could find no outlet, 
 •' I've never — Here I " He had an inspiration. 
 " You're a slippery sort, Mr. Hungerford ; but 
 p'r'aps you do remember callin' at my house one 
 night last week, about this very affair — if I'm not 
 mistaken, that is ? " 
 
 " Ah, I did," said Hungerford. " I called out 
 of curiosity to ask why you had insured these 
 houses for a hundred pounds above their purchase - 
 value. I didn't learn till afterwards that you 
 had a standing arrangement to that effect with 
 the Insurance Company. But as I shall have to 
 pay the premiums, and not you," he added, a little 
 abruptly, '* we needn't refer to that again." 
 
 " That's all you came for, is it ? " asked Cass- 
 wade, not moving. 
 
 " That's all. I thought it at first a mistake on 
 your part — a queer arrangement, anyhow." 
 
 "But this 'ere's a much queerer, ain't it?" 
 Casswade's hand moved toward a waistcoat pocket. 
 " What you sit there and tell me, then, is that you 
 had no idea of a payment in a lump sum, or of any 
 bis'ness whatever ? You jest threw it out as a bit 
 o' bait, like, 'cause you knew Casswade required 
 some hookin' ? You wanted to be special friendly, 
 like, all along, didn't you? " 
 
 Hungerford, nursing one knee, looked steadily 
 back with his dreamy dark eyes. He declined to 
 answer verbally. Maybe, too, he thought silence 
 the safer. 
 
 " Didn't you? " repeated Mr. Casswade, like a 
 
LOW SOCIETY 255 
 
 stage -actor creeping nearer and nearer to his de- 
 nouement. " Well, allow me to tell you that, when 
 you wrote that letter, you took an infernal bloomin' 
 liberty on yourself. In any other man but you, Td 
 call it somethin* more. And p'r'aps you ain't heard 
 the last of it. That's me. And I'm known from 
 east to west o' Barkin'." 
 
 Hungerford glanced at the door, and back at 
 *' Mrs. Casswade." '' Mrs. Casswade's " expres- 
 sion gave no clue as to what she knew of her 
 husband's mental condition. Hungerford slowly 
 got to his feet. Casswade rose, too, with as near 
 a dramatic movement as he could achieve. 
 
 " * That letter * " Hungerford began, clear- 
 ing his throat. 
 
 *• Yes, sir— that letter I " 
 
 "I'd like to see it," Hungerford said. " When 
 can I ? " 
 
 " When can you? Now 1 It's here ; jest as it 
 happens, I took it out o* my old overcoat as I 
 started, to refer to. I didn't think — I didn't think 
 I was bein' made a fool and convenience. Here 
 you are, sir — your own words." His thick fingers 
 shook, as he drew out a sheet of notepaper, folded 
 several times to fit the waistcoat pocket. He 
 unfolded it, and rapped it with the back of his 
 hand. " A dirty trick, sir— that's what this is. 
 A— a " 
 
 It trailed off. He stared at the sheet — turned it 
 over — turned it back again. It was blank. Save 
 that it was soiled, there was not a mark upon it. 
 
 Mr. Casswade suddenly crushed it in his palm, 
 and then thrust it back into his pocket. He stood, 
 the little '* boiled " eyes seeming about to start 
 
256 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 from their sockets . The room grew hot ; a sort of 
 black magic was all about him. He looked to be 
 growing bigger and bigger, as though air were 
 being pumped into him. Just as it appeared that 
 the bulges of the frock-coat must part with a 
 bang — that the Nemesis of the " fat " theory had 
 really claimed him — he gave a little sigh of sub- 
 sidence, looked feebly round, and saw Miss Pugh. 
 
 " Come on home, you ! " 
 
 It was only a whisper, but not one to be dis- 
 regarded. His arm out, he groped for the door, 
 and Miss Pugh followed on tiptoe. It was a literal 
 fact that Hungerford could not move. 
 
 A low light burned in the front parlour. Mr. 
 Casswade snatched up his coat and hat, snatched 
 up Miss Pugh's '* things "in a bundle, and 
 turned. 
 
 " Open that door," he commanded, huskily. 
 ** Out of it." She obeyed. They were outside. 
 
 " Bang it I " And Miss Pugh banged it. 
 
 " I — I didn't wish to appear what I'm not," she 
 faltered, as he strode down the pavement, his arms 
 full. 
 
 ** Shut your noise," he muttered, ** or I'll do 
 somethin' to you." He paused. ** Put 'em on — 
 quick 1 " And Miss Pugh had never completed 
 her outdoor toilet more rapidly. '* Now, not 
 another bit o' lip from you, or you'll hear what I 
 think. Come on ! " 
 
 He rolled on. Miss Pugh gliding silently an inch 
 in the rear — like an eel in tow of a porpoise. The 
 electric cars swung by, but he did not suggest a 
 ride, inside or out. He said no word — apparently 
 he had forgotten her presence ; when suddenly, 
 
LOW SOCIETY 257 
 
 as they passed under a lamp, out of the darkness 
 from somewhere at hand came a clear, ringing 
 voice. 
 
 " Good evenin', Mr. and Mrs. Casswade," it 
 said. Mr. Casswade started convulsively, clutched 
 at the lamp, and stared. He seemed to think he 
 had heard it in a dream. He went on. What 
 Miss Pugh thought, would never be known. 
 
 Gradually the glow of lights increased, and the 
 Friday night throng thickened. They were within 
 a short distance of the main Barking thorough- 
 fares — so near, indeed, that even Mr. Casswade 
 appeared forced to realise his compromising posi- 
 tion. He drew up, to point Miss Pugh down a 
 side -turning. 
 
 " The doorkey 1 " she breathed. "I'm sorry — 
 I forgot mine — not thinking I " He glared wildly, 
 and fumbled for his own. They had to draw back 
 a little — the passers-by formed quite a crowd here. 
 And, as suddenly, as thrillingly again, from the 
 edge of it came a clear, arresting voice. 
 
 " Nice evenin', Mr. and Mrs. Casswade I " 
 
 The key clattered down from Mr. Casswade 's 
 fingers. He pushed out with both arms precipi- 
 tately, and was lost to sight. 
 
 L.S. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ** She's off again," said Mr. Shadd, making an 
 unsteady appearance from the shop into the par- 
 lour beyond. " She's gone." 
 
 It was so tragically done that Mrs. Shadd 
 dropped her needlework and looked like bursting 
 into tears. Instead, she gave the cat asleep upon 
 her lap a cuff that sent it thudding into the fire- 
 place. 
 
 "Gone? What's the use of telling me she's 
 gone? Why didn't you stop her? " 
 
 ** I couldn't. I heard the side door click, and 
 there she was, going past like a rasher of wind. 
 Gibson's boy was in the shop ; I've sent him flying 
 after her, to say she's to come back or take the 
 consequences. Hark ! " 
 
 They listened hard a moment. Then a howl 
 was heard outside. It was Gibson's boy, return- 
 ing with Selina's reply imprinted upon his cheek. 
 
 " My goodness I Stop that noise, do I " Fear- 
 ful of Tamplin Street knowing all, Mr. Shadd 
 pounced out and dragged him inside. " Stop it 
 at once, or you shan't have the twopence. What 
 did she do? " 
 
 " I told her, and she — she turned round and 
 fetched me a wipe over the jaw, and knocked me 
 down, and then kicked me," sobbed Gibson's boy. 
 
 ** Boys who can tell lies like that," said Mr. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 259 
 
 Shadd, with feeling, after a diplomatic wait, 
 " can't be trusted with money. Here I " He 
 turned to pick up a peppermint drop, wrapped it 
 in newspaper, and plunged it into the boy's 
 pocket. '* There, don't undo it till you get nearly 
 home. Go on I " He went back to the parlour, 
 and sat down as with all interest in life gone. 
 "I'm done," he said. " After waiting on her hand 
 and foot for nineteen years, she turns round and 
 says she*s as much a woman as you are, and '11 
 do as she likes. She meets him somewhere — I'm 
 sure of it, as I sit here." 
 
 ** You can't help being clever," sniffed Mrs. 
 Shadd, snatching up her work. " She couldn't 
 very well meet him nowhere." 
 
 '* She'll run off with him, and disgrace us — 
 you see," he went on, mournfully. " What's 
 coming to everything, I don't know. The shop's 
 only half what it was, she's been and taken leave 
 of her senses like this, and we've lost our best 
 friend in Casswade all through her. You can 
 sniff — I know what I'm saying. He's not the 
 same man lately — scowls and tries to look blind 
 when I pass him. Showed me quite plainly that 
 he'd had enough of us, when I stopped him in the 
 street last Sunday. It's cruel from beginning to 
 end." 
 
 ** Might he have had anything more to say 
 about Baversham?" she enquired. 
 
 ** Only a word or two, but you could see it 
 rankled. Said he hoped he'd die with his neck in 
 a noose and his legs in hot lead. Said he was 
 sick of everybody and everything inside Barking 
 and out. Of course, I could see he meant you 
 
 s 2 
 
26o LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and me, too. Said he had a good mind to blow 
 up all his houses and everyone in 'em. And, 
 mind you, he looked it, too. I never saw a man 
 age in a few weeks as he's done." 
 
 ** He's not coming in here again, at any rate," 
 said Mrs. Shadd, with feminine inconsequence, 
 nodding away. " One drunken fit will last you 
 for a long time, if I know it." 
 
 ** I was not drunk, and I dare you to say so 
 again," replied Mr. Shadd, with justifiable heat. 
 ** I was overcome — nothing more nor less." 
 
 " Exactly," she whispered, with woman's " last 
 word." *' That's what Bogie Lawrence told the 
 magistrates on Monday ; and they gave him two 
 months to recoup. They'd have given you six." 
 
 Mr. Shadd went into the shop, slammed the 
 curtained door behind him, and stuck an extra 
 halfpenny on to the price of the ninepenny bacon. 
 
 Near a month had passed. It was thrillingly 
 close upon Christmas. Just a powder of dry snow 
 had covered the ground as with a shower of seed- 
 pearls. For those able to enjoy it, there was an 
 exhilarating tingle in the air — a rare atmospheric 
 clarity in which the stars above gleamed like 
 points of cut steel, and the long lines of lit shops 
 below stretched away like jewelled rods. Selina 
 Shadd, marching in a calm delirium along the 
 main road, attributed the musical ring her feet 
 drew from the pavements to her own newly-dis- 
 covered self-reliance and assertion. Baversham, 
 who was not to be conquered by caresses, could 
 scarcely fail to be impressed by a whole series of 
 defiant scoutings of parental authority. Besides, 
 it breathed old-world mystery. And, next to the 
 
LOW SOCIETY 261 
 
 " passionnel " element in Parisian life, Selina loved 
 mediaeval mystery. 
 
 He was waiting there, at the same secluded 
 corner, smoking a cigarette and leaning against a 
 pillar-box. 
 
 ** Postman's cleared it twice," he said, rousing 
 from a reverie. *' I was goin' to give you jest 
 another ten minutes. All right, we won't have any 
 o' that ! " Selina had essayed a sob, as after 
 something heroic undertaken on his account. ** If 
 it upsets them too much, or upsets you at all, I 
 haven't persuaded you either way, and don't ever 
 you say I have." 
 
 George made it clear on each occasion that his 
 attitude was one of strict reservation. While 
 softening so far as to ostensibly resume walking 
 out, and even to allow Selina to hint that the past 
 was ** all wiped out and done with," he wished it to 
 be understood that his final decision in ** Baver- 
 sham v. Shadd and others " was deferred. Selina, 
 even with her arm around him, was in the position 
 of one bound to come up for judgment if called 
 upon. ** Strict platonic, mind, and no bogey," was 
 the guarded legal phrase with which George had 
 ended his first written communication after the 
 impasse. And Selina, although carefully abstain- 
 ing from asking the real meaning of the word, was 
 very good at guessing. 
 
 '* I walked straight out," she said, her lips set 
 determinedly. '* If they had locked me in twice 
 over, I should have done just the same." 
 
 ** How? " asked George, who had a nasty knack 
 of overlooking the lofty sentiment and being a 
 stickler as to mere prosaic details. 
 
262 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 "How? That's a silly question," Selina said, 
 looking away while she bit at her handkerchief. 
 ** You ought to know by this time — love laughs at 
 locksmiths." 
 
 ** In ha'penny books." George lit another 
 cigarette. ** No daughter o' mine 'ud ever get out 
 to meet a feller I didn't fancy." 
 
 *' Oh, well," she said, " it's different when it's 
 your own child, of course." A pause. ** Won't 
 it seem strange ? " she added, in an absent key. 
 "Us, I mean." 
 
 '* It will," he agreed, grimly. '-Sort o* dream, 
 like, I should say." 
 
 They walked on a little way, and by then Selina 
 had so far recovered as to titter. " Mind we don't 
 go past Mr. Casswade's house. We're very near it." 
 
 "I'd like to," George said ; *- at eight o'clock 
 to-morrow mornin'. I've half a mind to, too." 
 
 " Good gracious, whatever for? " 
 
 " 'Cause I've jest posted four more Chris'mus 
 postcards to * Mrs. Casswade,' wishin' a happy 
 Chris'mus to the bride and bridegroom. That 
 makes nine, all from different pillar-boxes, and all 
 in different handwritin'." 
 
 " And all in the same ink? " Selina asked, with 
 a gasp. 
 
 " All in the same ink. They won't have a word 
 to show in three days' time." 
 
 "But where did you buy it? You might tell 
 just me.'* 
 
 " Didn't buy it. A nurse gave it to me. They 
 use it to put the hospital mark on the patients' 
 underlinen for a day or so — when there's any 
 underlinen to mark, I s'pose." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 263 
 
 ** Great friend of yours, I presume," said Selina, 
 chilling. 
 
 " Ah, you're right. A walkin* angel, she is. 
 Wings underneath, right enough." 
 
 " Very strange you didn't marry her to see," 
 Selina breathed. 
 
 ** Wasn't asked," he admitted. ** That sort o* 
 woman don't marry. They know too much. It's 
 always been a licker to me a doctor can sit down 
 to a chop or a steak, let alone a 'aitch-bone." 
 
 Another pause. " Funny you should speak 
 about it — I've often thought of becoming a 
 hospital nurse," Selina whispered, then. ** I've 
 thought still more about it lately." 
 
 It failed utterly. 
 
 ** Take my tip," George said, coldly, *' and don't 
 start practisin' on men's hearts." 
 
 By degrees Selina unhooked her arm from his. 
 Her own heart, which had been pounding so hard 
 against its corsage that he might almost hear it, 
 was relapsing into its normal state. Once again 
 it seemed that the assignation, for all its surrepti- 
 tious element, was to resolve itself into a mere 
 commonplace stroll along side -streets. No sign 
 of even a hint from George as to what an elope- 
 ment would cost. And she was willing to fall in 
 with the cheapest method conceivable. 
 
 ** I — I don't think we can keep on like this," 
 she was stung to saying, as they came out into a 
 curve of the main road beyond Barking Town. 
 And George looked round at her as in surprise. 
 It was always a secret grievance with Selina that 
 he had not to look down. 
 
 " Why, we're close on it," he said. 
 
2 64 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Close on— what? " 
 
 " Mandalay Gardens. I'm goin' to call and see 
 how he is, and what's the matter. I've heard 
 that he's been taken worse again. Didn't I tell 
 you? *' 
 
 ** Yes ; you think far more of him — or her — 
 now than you do of me. . . . What I mean is, 
 perhaps I've made myself too cheap all along. 
 Men don't like cheap things." She hung her head, 
 and plucked hard at the frayed hem of her hand- 
 kerchief. " Pick up any paper you like," she said, 
 ** and you'll read that if a man cares for a woman 
 at all, he'll go after her, no matter how he dis- 
 likes her parents and relations — no matter if she 
 lives in a hovel. And it's true." 
 
 **And didn't I?" demanded George. "I 
 reckon I came once too often, if you ask me. Be- 
 sides, what are you talkin' about ? What you're 
 hankerin* after, I s'pose, is for them to lock you in, 
 and for me to walk up with a crowbar and a 
 pistol. Not me ! " 
 
 " You know they don't mean anything," Selina 
 faltered. " You'd be a demon, as you said, if it 
 was your own daughter. It's natural they should 
 feel there was some misunderstanding about — 
 about the money, as I wouldn't tell 'em all. 
 Heaven knows," she added, with a timely rush of 
 tears, '* heaven knows, you've got even with Cass- 
 wade himself over it." 
 
 " Not yet," George said, slowly. *' I ain't half 
 up to him yet. But as for your father and mother 
 — well, I'm simply done with the pair of 'em. 
 There's no enmity, there's no nothin' ; they can 
 go. When once you've trusted a party, and found 
 
LOW SOCIETY '265 
 
 him out, you must be a fool or a liar if you can 
 ever feel the same towards him again. Mind you, 
 I'm not so surprised," he explained, as a softener. 
 ** I was lookin' only yesterday at their portraits in 
 the album you gave me. Ton my word, one looks 
 like a goat, and the other's got a downright tabby- 
 cat look. And you might have been a mix-up of 
 both. Good job you're not." 
 
 Selina gasped, and tried to realise the aptness of 
 the simile ; but thought it wise to let the hint at 
 reconciliation slide, and fasten upon a promising 
 side-issue. 
 
 *' In that case," she said, wiping her eyes, ** I 
 suppose if we ever did get married like other 
 people, we should have to hire an empty house, or 
 a secondhand 'bus, to start from. I can't dress 
 and have a wedding breakfast in the street very 
 well — although I don't suppose you'd mind that." 
 And George buttoned his coat with the same re- 
 solute air of secretiveness. 
 
 " Believe me, when I'm married," he told her, 
 ** I shan't make any more to-do about it than in 
 buyin' a new pair o* boots. It's a private affair, 
 like a bath. The people who make the most 
 helter-skelter and fuss are generally the ones who 
 have to go off and hide 'emselves for the longest 
 honeymoon — that's sense, ain't it? Whether I'm 
 married or not, is nothin' to do with anyone else 
 in Barkin*. I don't tell everyone what I've got 
 for breakfast. If anyone knocks at my door, 
 and finds a woman there they didn't expect, that's 
 my bis'ness, not theirs. The world's ate up with 
 hanky-panky, and that's the fact. I know all 
 about these peacocks struttin* off to church in 
 
266 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 carriages, and then borrowin' a fiver a month' 
 afterwards. You wait." 
 
 ** I can wait," said Selina, half sadly. ** I may 
 be allowed, I suppose, to think there doesn't seem 
 much to wait for." 
 
 ** No ; only a home and a husband. If you want 
 any tinsel and limelight, that'll last about three 
 hours, you must find someone else — young 
 Sanders, we'll say. Are you comin' on or goin* 
 back?" 
 
 Selina went on. They came abreast of Man- 
 dalay Gardens, and paused in a shadowy patch of 
 the main road. Away across the stretch of field- 
 land — or mud -land — toward Beckton and the river, 
 the clearness of the stars and moon gave an effect 
 as of light from many silver lamps hung above 
 earth. 
 
 ** Yes, there's someone or other lookin' up at 
 the house," Baversham said. ** It's a tall woman. 
 Who's she, I wonder? Up to somethin', as she's 
 a woman, I'll be bound. The bedroom light's 
 lit, so he's still in there. Walk on a few yards." 
 
 They did so, and paused again, looking down 
 the site of the new block in the rear. The same 
 silvery light, of course, illumined this nebulous 
 patch, made more sharply -clear where the shadows 
 of the houses cut into it. 
 
 ** Don't move," Baversham said, reflectively. 
 ** If that ain't Casswade down there, I'll eat my 
 hat. Wish I had the pluck to step up and hand 
 him a Chris 'mus card for * Mrs. Casswade.' What 
 would he do, d'you think ? " 
 
 ** Stab you," Selina replied, without hesitation ; 
 " You'll get into trouble as it is^ I'm thinking. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 267 
 
 Don't tell me he hasn't got an idea who's behind 
 it all." 
 
 " I don't doubt it," said George ; " but he won't 
 give it out to Barkin'. What's he up to? " 
 
 Apparently nothing. Not even Baversham's 
 keen eyes could make out more. It seemed fan- 
 ciful that Mr. Casswade should leave convivial 
 surroundings to come and take a sentimental peep 
 at his inchoate premises at this hour ; but there 
 he was, standing back, the outward curve of his 
 figure just projecting into the moonlight — with 
 the air of a gamekeeper watching a suspicious 
 spot in the covert. 
 
 " Wonderin* how he can knock another inch 
 off the size, and shove another ten pounds on the 
 price," opined Baversham. ** That wants a bit o* 
 figurin' out, I admit." 
 
 They moved back, and along Mandalay Gar- 
 dens. There was no one outside Number Nine 
 now. Baversham lifted his hand to the knocker, 
 and paused. 
 
 " Hardly like to, somehow," he said. *' What's 
 it mean when you feel a bit funny, like, as if 
 somethin' was goin* to happen? " 
 
 " Generally means you've done something, or 
 ' done ' somebody," said Selina. 
 
 And George knocked firmly at once, to show his 
 contempt . 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 The door opened. Ella stood there. For a 
 moment she looked at them as with eyes that, 
 after long weeping, saw nothing clearly — a look 
 that made George squeeze Selina's hand furtively 
 but hard, as to justify his premonition. Then her 
 quiet little voice sounded. 
 
 " Yes, come in — I am pleased to see you." 
 
 " I know you are, or we wouldn't have come,** 
 Baversham said, bluntly. They had stepped in, 
 and he was twisting his bowler while Selina tugged 
 at her handkerchief. " Lovely night, Mrs. Hun- 
 gerford — looks like a Chris'mus card out o* 
 doors." He glanced up the stairs, and sank his 
 voice. " Don't trouble to tell him, if he's 
 not " 
 
 ** Go up to him — and look at him — and see 
 what you think," Ella answered, with resolute 
 pauses to stiffen her voice. 
 
 " Hold my hat," George muttered to Selina. 
 He went close, but did not give her the hat^ 
 " Why don't you be a woman, and say somethin*, 
 or do somethin'?" he almost hissed, from the 
 side of his mouth. 
 
 He went up the stairs, feeling a little out of 
 place. This feeling strengthened so that he forgot 
 to tap, but pushed at the door and tiptoed in. 
 He held his breath and ruminated. The figure on 
 the bed, its face turned, lay unnervingly stilL 
 
LOW SOCIETY 269 
 
 Gradually, with little coughs, he worked his way 
 round the foot of the bedstead, and peered along. 
 It startled him to find that Hungerford's great 
 dark eyes were looking straight back at him, and 
 that Hungerford was waiting. 
 
 *' Why, chummie I " Baversham blurted out, 
 huskily. ** What's it all about? What have they 
 been doin' to you? " 
 
 Hungerford slid a long white hand across the 
 coverlet toward him, and lifted it twice slowly, 
 as to indicate that he could hear all, and under- 
 stand all, without being able to answer. What 
 struck Baversham most was the fact that even his 
 lips shared the prevailing pallor, and that his eyes 
 had a velvety blackness in contrast. There was a 
 chair beside the bed ; Baversham sat down, got a 
 quick grip of the hand on the coverlet, and looked 
 away, till the hailstones had done forming and 
 clicking and melting in his throat. And Hunger- 
 ford watched him, and seemed to know, and 
 twitched his imprisoned fingers in encouragement. 
 
 "If I'd ha' known I " Baversham said, looking 
 suddenly round. " Why, I've been almost past 
 the house every night for a week. My word, I'd 
 
 ha' " He coughed, to smother a choke ; and 
 
 bent. ** Don't you worry. I'm comin' every 
 blessed night, to see if I can't do somethin*. 
 Whereabouts is the pain? " 
 
 Hungerford seemed to indicate his throat. 
 Almost he smiled, as Baversham, with quite a pro- 
 fessional concern, breathed upon one hand, to 
 warm it, placed it critically on the part affected, 
 and felt around it. He even went so far as to stoop 
 and listen. And it seemed to him there was a 
 
270 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 sound as of waves draining down a pebbly beach 
 at a great distance. He tried to diagnose this 
 phenomenon. 
 
 " Doctor been to-day? " he queried. ** What's 
 he say? Don't mind tellin' me. I'm thinkin* of 
 
 her. If it's lungs " He looked away again, 
 
 and sucked in his lips tightly. 
 
 Hungerford caught at his coat, drew him down, 
 and managed to make himself audible. 
 
 ** Not yet. He hopes not. Only bronchial 
 tubes. Say you — say you found me far better 
 than you expected." 
 
 " Right I " Baversham breathed it fervently, 
 after a puzzled stare. ** I know — I see. Why,- 
 there ain't much the matter with you after all, is 
 there? I'm surprised ! " he said, loudly, as with 
 the sudden idea that she might be listening out 
 there. " Still, you'd better not go out for a day 
 or so. That'll do it," he added, sinking back to 
 the whisper. Apparently this was his best ** bed- 
 side " manner. 
 
 Then an uncertain pause, during which Hunger - 
 ford lay and watched him with a half -unconscious 
 intentness . 
 
 Into the silence Baversham seemed to read 
 something that might or might not have been re- 
 flected in the other man's thoughts. He twisted 
 his legs, bit his nails, and looked most uncom- 
 fortable in his transparent effort to appear merely 
 buried in reflection. When he spoke again, it 
 was in a haphazard, jerky manner, as if he could 
 bear himself no longer. 
 
 "Seen — seen anythin' o* Casswade lately?" 
 
 Hungerford looked startled. Then the faint 
 
LOW SOCIETY 271 
 
 smile lit his face again — either at the question 
 itself, or at the quaint familiarity of its expres- 
 sion. Finally his eyes closed and his lips set in 
 a way that Baversham could not quite understand. 
 
 "And don't want to, eh?" Baversham jerked 
 out again, clearing his throat. '* I know you're 
 one who'd have to speak of a man as you find him ; 
 but for my own part — a bit extra strange that 
 night when I dropped in unexpected, wasn't he ? A 
 bit more than strange, wasn't he? " 
 
 Hungerford slowly raised himself a little, and 
 seemed to listen. Then he motioned. After a 
 couple of wrong guesses Baversham lifted down a 
 jacket from a peg. Hungerford groped in the 
 breast pocket and drew out a folded letter. Even 
 that small effort exhausted him ; he fell back. 
 Baversham, his breath held, stared at the letter 
 lying on the bed, but seemed determined not to 
 touch it — until the other's limp fingers gave it a 
 flick. Then slowly he unfolded it. There were 
 only a few lines of writing, — a laborious scrawl, 
 but representing the very best effort of the writer. 
 Date — November 20th. 
 
 *• Sir, 
 
 ** This is to give you one clear month's, 
 notice that I intend to call in my loan, as per 
 terms agreed upon in your signed Note -of -hand. 
 I shall be glad to receive from you the sum of 
 Twenty - five pounds advanced thereon, with a 
 quarter's interest at the rate of five per cent. 
 Allowing for the usual three days' grace, the same 
 should be in my hands not later than 6 p.m. on 
 December 24th next. 
 
 *' Yours faithfully, M. Casswade." 
 
272 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 For a minute or so Baversham did not look up. 
 He fluttered the paper several times as if to brush 
 away a fly or other impediment to clear vision. 
 Perhaps he had not from the first suspected Hun- 
 gerford to be a man versed in business intricacies 
 of this nature ; but the crude laxity of this par- 
 ticular financial arrangement seemed to leave him 
 incredulous and thick of speech. 
 
 "Is this — is this the loan you told me of? 
 Didn't you — mean to say you didn't have a proper 
 agreement and time -limit made out, same as you 
 did for the house -purchase money?" 
 
 Hungerford pulled him close again. ** I see 
 now — I didn't then. I trusted him, without 
 thinking." 
 
 Baversham sat back, with a deep intake of 
 breath. His mouth opened again and again, as 
 if he wanted to say, " Oh, you fool — you fool I " 
 and could not in very decency. He could only 
 go on staring at the letter — until of a sudden 
 it was plucked from him by trembling white 
 fingers . 
 
 He gasped. Then he understood. There had 
 sounded a creak on the staircase. Ella was not 
 to know of Casswade's foreclosure. 
 
 He stumbled up, thrust it into the pocket, and 
 hung the coat on its peg again. Then, with the 
 same awkward uncertainty that had marked his 
 bearing throughout, he swooped down to mutter 
 a " Good -night — must go ! God bless you, old 
 chap — bear up ! " Hungerford was not quite sure, 
 but it seemed to him that Baversham was so far 
 confused or upset as to kiss him. Then the still- 
 ness reigned again. Baversham had seized his 
 
LOW SOCIETY 273 
 
 hat and was gone. It seemed to have been a 
 series of abrupt rushes. 
 
 Ella was waiting expectantly on the third stair 
 below. He had just time to pull himself together, 
 mentally and physically. Then she had touched 
 his sleeve, and was looking into his face. It was 
 her way of asking a question. 
 
 ** Don't you worry. He*s all right 1 " Baver- 
 sham said, loudly. 
 
 " All right? " She put her hands together, in 
 the longing to believe. ** All right ? " she repeated. 
 
 ** Well, what I mean — he might be worse. Oh, 
 a deal worse ! " he added, with airy con- 
 viction. ** Of course, he*s not what you'd call 
 a trained bull -fighter at any time ; but still, 
 what with the medicine, and you lookin' after 
 him ! " 
 
 Ella looked up the stairs, then put one arm to 
 the wall and leaned her head against it. He saw 
 silent quiver after quiver run down the little 
 aproned figure, and his effort to control himself 
 sensibly was almost as keen as hers. He wanted 
 to lay a hand on her shoulder cheerfully, but 
 his normal cool resource was gone to-night ; and, 
 besides, Selina was standing there. 
 
 " Bear up ! " was all he could whisper again. 
 ••I'm not far off, mind." 
 
 He went into the kitchen to scribble his address 
 on a slip of paper for safety's sake. This he 
 turned to pin to Ella's fringed strip of drapery 
 along the mantel -shelf. Already pinned there 
 were two •' demand " notes for taxes in advance. 
 It struck him simultaneously that Hungerford's 
 vacant berth in the City office was probably filled 
 
 L.S. T 
 
274 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 by now — Hungerford had been an absentee nearly 
 three weeks. 
 
 As he emerged, Ella was going up the stair. He 
 felt glad, and made straight for the front door, 
 just beckoning to Selina. She could stare and 
 wonder as much as she liked. 
 
 She continued to do so until he had dived down 
 the first of the quiet side -turnings that would bring 
 them out beyond the more crowded part of Bark- 
 ing. Then he drew up. 
 
 " I can't come no farther to-night," he said, 
 abruptly. " Straight, I can't." 
 
 "No farther?" Selina repeated, going cold. 
 " Why, what's the matter? What have I done? " 
 
 He would not answer. He began to roll a 
 cigarette. He finished it, lit a match — dropped 
 it, gave a series of gurgles, and was leaning 
 against the brick wall, his face hidden against 
 his arm. An instant of unspeakable awe, and then 
 Selina knew that he was weeping audibly. An 
 instant more, and her arms were all around him, 
 in the open street. Strangely enough, she had 
 never thought so much of him as she did in this 
 moment. 
 
 " What is it — what is it ? " she sobbed in turn. 
 ** If you've done anything, tell me right out. I 
 don't care what it is — stealing or anything — so 
 long as you tell me 1 ** 
 
 " No — no — it's nothin'," George rattled, putting 
 her away to get breath. " I couldn't — I couldn't 
 tell him it was me that wrote that letter to Cass- 
 wade invitin' him there that night like that — and 
 now — and now — get away — that's all | '* 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Christmas Eve of that year fell upon a Satur- 
 day. Incidentally, Christmas Eve of that year was 
 a day of mixed sensations — unconnected with 
 Yuletide — for more persons than one, including 
 Mr. Matt Casswade. 
 
 The cold snap had held. There was the same 
 still and rarefied atmosphere, like wine to the 
 nerves. At six p.m. the lights of Barking Town 
 sent up a furnace -like glare to meet the brilliant 
 blaze in the heavens, and the shops that displayed 
 things to eat drew like a magnet. Children in 
 battalions flitted from window to window, breath- 
 ing upon each glass as long as the proprietor could 
 stand it. Hatless mothers with tightly-drawn 
 shawls — the inevitable baby .clutched beneath — 
 were drawn out in troops from their obscurity in 
 back streets to look once again at the piled pro- 
 fusion — the mounds of gleaming fruit, the stacks 
 of iced cake, the crackers and conical fir-trees — 
 and all that keeps each Christmas green in memory 
 until the next arrives. 
 
 Even Mr. Shadd, up in Tamplin Street, was kept 
 busy all day weighing and serving out small lots. 
 The famous halting ** S— s— s— " and '* F— f— f— " 
 had to be clipped perceptibly to allow of time for 
 the mutual remark that trade had never been so 
 blighted and Christmas so strangely depressing 
 
 T 2 
 
276 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 within the memory of living man. Particularly 
 he had to cope with a run on bacon ** pieces ** 
 for customers who were relying on Providence 
 for the fowl or something "to go with 'em.** 
 Facetiously intended or not, Mr. Shadd thought 
 it discreet to reply each time that it was no 
 use relying on him as an alternative, as he was 
 already opening negotiations with the workhouse 
 authorities, 
 
 Mr. Casswade, exceptionally, had no seasonable 
 appetite. It had been dwindling for weeks ; he 
 had reached the point at which, as Miss PugH 
 warned him in roundabout, respectable terms, he 
 must be subsisting ** on his own fat." But even 
 this sinister reference failed to arouse him from 
 his brooding apathy. He didn't care a blooming 
 jot if he fell down dead, he said ; and Miss Pugh 
 could almost believe it. Some subtle change 
 seemed at work in Mr. Casswade. Whether his 
 thirst, too, had treacherously left him as rats leave 
 a sinking vessel, nobody was in a position to tell ; 
 but the apoplectic bulge of his cheeks lately re- 
 sembled most a puffy, putty -like bag of flesh 
 hung under each eye, the fishy stare in the eyes 
 themselves being even more marked. Strangest 
 of all was the fact that Miss Pugh was still retained 
 on his premises. His passion seemed to be held 
 at bay by the acute reflection that Miss Pugh would 
 be likely to keep her silence as to certain events 
 just as long as he kept his. As each mysterious, 
 maddening reminder arrived through the letter- 
 box, he set his teeth hard and thrust the post -card 
 into the fire, while Miss Pugh fled to her room 
 for a hysterical laughing-fit — not wholly of per- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 277 
 
 verted humour. In short, Mr. Casswade seemed 
 to be biding his time. Consequently, she had to 
 bide hers. 
 
 At five p.m. he had gulped down three cups of 
 tea, pushed his food back, and risen heavily from 
 the armchair into which his bulk had worked a 
 deep, vast hollow. 
 
 "Going out — again?" breathed Miss Pugh, 
 almost timidly. She had seen him glancing at 
 and listening to his watch every few minutes. 
 
 " Going out again," replied Mr. Casswade, with 
 unnecessary emphasis. " And," he added, " don't 
 ask me what time I shall be home, for I don't 
 know and shan't guess." 
 
 " Only I thought, it being Christmas Eve, in a 
 sense " Miss Pugh rested her cheek thought- 
 fully upon one finger, and waited. 
 
 " What about it? " he demanded, pausing sus- 
 piciously. ** Any different from any other evenin* ? 
 Eh?" 
 
 *' Oh, no," she said, hurriedly. '* Only, it seems 
 a little unnatural in a way " 
 
 " Well, I am unnatural," said Mr. Casswade. 
 " Bloomin' unnatural jest now, if anyone wants to 
 know. So that's all right." And he went omin- 
 ously out. 
 
 Perhaps the biggest men are not the bravest. 
 Mr. Casswade 's way lay to the left, but, for the 
 third time that day, he temporised and turned in 
 the other direction first of all. Admittedly some 
 men require a deal of reflection prior to any 
 delicate enterprise : Mr. Casswade required only 
 a preliminary drink or two. 
 
 "What, again?" exclaimed the bright bar- 
 
278 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 lady, glancing up at the holly -wreathed clock in 
 clever surprise. " It's unkind of me to humour 
 you, that it is ; you won't enjoy your share this 
 evening a bit. Bitter in a tankard? " 
 
 " That's what I said," he rejoined, acidly. 
 
 " Ah," she sighed, "if I charged for compli- 
 ments, as some women do, I shouldn't make much 
 out of you." 
 
 Mr. Casswade lifted a distorted face from the 
 pewter pot, " It's a compliment to you to drink 
 your beer," he muttered. " For Gawd's sake, 
 what d'you put in it at holiday times ? Bad 
 vinegar or what? Cold poison, it is." 
 
 She was both shocked and sceptical, and showed 
 it by silent aloofness. She had berries and flash- 
 ing steel ornaments twined in her hair, and the 
 entire bar looked rich and Christmassy with the 
 tinted glow upon its polished glass and metal 
 array ; this fact alone should have atoned for any 
 fanciful shortcomings in the liquor supplied. All 
 the same, Mr. Casswade was a client worth 
 " nursing." Presently she leaned over the bar 
 toward him. 
 
 " I'll forgive you," she said, sorrowfully. " It's 
 a man's privilege always to be forgiven by the 
 ladies. No jokes, though — we had an argument 
 here the other night : how much do you suppose 
 you do drink on your best days? " 
 
 " Dunno," he answered, shortly. " Might be a 
 quart, might be four — or, again, it might be a lot." 
 
 " Oh, well — I " she said, as though she only 
 objected to excess. " Nine -tenths of all we eat 
 is liquid really, isn't it ? — so your little extra 
 amount doesn't make much difference." 
 
LOW SOCIETY '279 
 
 ** I'd like to be a bit thinner again — that's all," 
 he said, glancing at his frontal avoirdupois as if 
 he wished someone would come and lop it level 
 unawares. It was a rare, unexpected bit of con- 
 fidence ; and she treated it accordingly. 
 
 *' Oh, don't say that I A thin, miserable man 
 doesn't get half the respect and attention a man 
 of weight does." 
 
 "I'd risk it," he said, desperately, taking an- 
 other drink. "I'd chance all about bein' miser- 
 able. I can't run — that's what I mean." 
 
 " But why do you want to run? " she pursued, 
 in concern. And he glared at her. 
 
 " Don't be silly. Don't be idiotic. Course, I 
 don't want to run — I'm not a bloomin* footballer, 
 I mean, I can't run if I wanted to, or had to. 
 Ain't that plain enough? " 
 
 It was plain enough for the bar -lady, anyhow. 
 She craned out and tapped him playfully. 
 
 " Oh, you sly I Blind man's buff to-morrow 
 night, eh? I hope she'll catch you— if she hasn't 
 done so already I " 
 
 " Who? " he demanded, taken aback. 
 
 "Who? Why, the future Mrs. Casswade, of 
 course. Oh, we've heard all about it. Of course, 
 I wouldn't ask for a bit of wedding-cake." 
 
 Mr. Casswade did not answer. His face took 
 on a series of changes, the final fixed expression 
 being of such a nature that she was glad to turn 
 away and rattle the glasses as an excuse. Posi- 
 tive relief was afforded by the entrance of another 
 habitue of the bar. 
 
 "Why, hullo I How's Mr. Casswade?" he 
 asked, with unsuspecting warmth. " My word, 
 
286 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 you're looking better than ever. Talk about 
 Christmas weather, eh ? Seen the sky ? Never 
 seen such a sky in my time." 
 
 It was a mercy he had not slapped Mr. Cass- 
 wade on the back. " Blow the sky 1 " said Mr. 
 Casswade, in a concentrated, deadly voice. 
 ** Curse the sky, and you along of it," he added. 
 
 He threw the remainder of his beer deliberately 
 across the floor, and stumped out. 
 
 *' Mad ? " gasped the other man, to the bar -lady. 
 
 ** Married — so they say," she replied, with a 
 pitying upthrow of her hands. " What a 
 mistake 1 " 
 
 A few steps farther in the wrong direction Mr. 
 Casswade took, maintaining very decently the slow 
 roll that indicated wealth and importance. Then 
 the increasing glow and hubbub seemed to tell 
 upon his nerves. The failure of his previous 
 drink fully justified another ; but to his disgust an 
 unprecedented sensation of nausea rose against 
 even the thought. This was the final straw. An 
 electric car was passing. Mr. Casswade boarded 
 it, got inside, trod deliberately on the toes of all 
 those passengers who did not instantly withdraw 
 them, and crashed down into the farthest corner 
 seat, very nearly blotting out of being a small boy 
 tucked in to avoid payment of fare. 
 
 " Ought to be at home and in bed," said Mr. 
 Casswade to the indignant mother. " If you will 
 have kids, look after 'em." 
 
 Five minutes later, he was set down within a 
 few paces of the New Eden estate. 
 
 Oddly enough, as early as four o'clock that 
 
LOW SOCIETY 281 
 
 afternoon, George Baversham had knocked fur- 
 tively at Number Nine, Mandalay Gardens. He 
 was out of breath, and carried so many small 
 bags and parcels that he had the look of an 
 amateur Santa Glaus. Hungerford's Ella, an- 
 swering the third subdued rat-tat, stood as in faint 
 surprise — while yet, in truth, her faculties were in 
 the numbed condition when no detail seems sin- 
 gular, because of the muffled unreality over the 
 whole. And, of course, Baversham had knocked 
 in the same furtive way every evening, if only to 
 put a quiet question and walk away again. 
 
 ** It's all right," he said. He had entered and 
 wiped his boots. " I've brought a few things — a 
 grape or two — I thought you mightn't have been 
 able to get out." 
 
 ** Oh, thank you — thank you 1 " Ella said, with 
 an unconscious little choke. '* Everyone is so 
 kind I " 
 
 "Everyone?" repeated Baversham, abruptly. 
 ** Who's that, then ? Anyone been to-day ? " 
 
 " No, only the doctor." She looked at him, and 
 tried to smile, wondering what she had said, and 
 whether she was asleep or awake. " I mean, it 
 is so good of you to come, and to think 
 of him " 
 
 " We'll talk about that afterwards, if you don't 
 mind," he put in. He led the way himself into 
 the bijou rear parlour, and carefully deposited his 
 assortment of parcels on the table. '* There, no, 
 we'll have it out at once," he added, the half-light 
 in here lending him courage. " There's jest 
 fifteen shillin's' worth here ; and that's an end of 
 it. If I can't give a little Chris 'mus present when 
 
282 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and how I like, it's funny. And what's more, I'm 
 goin' to stay a little while ; and then — then it 
 won't seem quite so lonely for you or for me, will 
 it?" 
 
 " What— what about Miss Shadd ? " Ella whis- 
 pered, with a tense effort to come out of the hyp- 
 notic detachment which made plain George Baver- 
 sham appear in the light of the benevolent, fur- 
 coated old gentleman in the children's Christmas 
 fairy -play. 
 
 " Oh, blow her! '^ he said, with sufficient blunt- 
 ness to break the spell. " She's all right. Told 
 her I'd meet her about nine o'clock, if I feel like it. 
 Ain't it cold ! " He blew upon his stiffened 
 fingers, and then artfully recollected. " Here, 
 what am I thinking of? Real stuff, this is— port 
 — none o' your ' fine, fruity, fam'ly ' at one -and - 
 two a bottle. Got a corkscrew, Mrs. Hungerford? 
 'Cause, whether you like it or not, you've got to 
 have a drain with me before we go another step. 
 .... All right, you run back up to him — I'll 
 find everythin' I want." She had not moved or 
 appeared to comprehend. " Go on — see if he 
 wants anythin' — tell him I'll be up in a minute 
 with a bit o' mistletoe." 
 
 She obeyed, like a child. Baversham. had a way 
 with him — a quaint but irresistible knack of estab- 
 lishing confidence when he so wished. 
 
 When she descended again, only ten minutes 
 later, Baversham was well through with a stealthy 
 transformation. The gas was lit, a chunk of 
 wood blazed in the fireplace, and a highly-coloured 
 Christmas motto hung from the mirror above it. 
 He had broken one small glass in his haste, but 
 
LOW SOCIETY 283 
 
 two others stood waiting, filled with clear, still, 
 ruby liquor. All Ella's stock of kitchen plates 
 appeared to have been utilised, and stood in rows, 
 containing fruit, biscuits, chocolates, and even 
 nuts. If he had poured out a pint of winkles, it 
 would not have seemed altogether strange. 
 
 A hand to her temples, pale Ella stood and 
 looked. For days she had gone dry -eyed ; but it 
 seemed as if the tears were coming now. Baver- 
 sham reached for the port hastily. 
 
 " Steady, now," he said, with deep warning. 
 " Keep steady — like rock ! " and he was steering 
 the glass to her lips before she realised. Two or 
 three mechanical sips she took ; then he was wise 
 enough to withdraw the glass and snatch up a 
 biscuit. " Now this ! — and you'll feel tons better. 
 And here's love and long life to all of us 1 " 
 
 He drained down his own, nearly choked, and 
 set to work again on his arrangement of the table. 
 Funny thing, he muttered repeatedly, if he couldn't 
 do what he liked with his own money at Christmas- 
 time. 
 
 "There," he said, at length. "How's that? 
 I only wish he could hop down and have a look ; 
 do him more good than all the med'cine. As he 
 can't, I'll hop up. Shan't be a minnit." 
 
 This he said with careless design — to suit his 
 own ends, and because she had the look of a 
 woman best not left alone too long. And, almost 
 ere Ella had time to rise from her knees after a 
 mechanical tidying-up of the fireplace, he was 
 coming hastily dovm on tiptoe again. There was 
 certainly something in his manner that, at any 
 other time, must have set her wondering. 
 
284 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Seems drowsy ; I wouldn't spoil that on any 
 account," he said, as he took off his overcoat. 
 *' The doctor was right enough — he's a lot better. 
 Now, look here, if you'd like to have a nap or 
 anythin' o' that, I shall be all right. I've got 
 my paper, and my 'bacca. If anyone calls, I'll 
 answer 'em. And I shall hear if he knocks on the 
 floor. I've told him — he knows. Now, do I If 
 you won't, you don't trust me, that's plain." 
 
 ** I do," she whispered. " Oh, I do." 
 
 She stood a moment, looking before her, and 
 then went out. For a while, listening hard, he 
 heard her moving to and fro in the kitchen. Then 
 she was going slowly once more up the staircase^ 
 and then all was problematically quiet. 
 
 " Now, then 1 " he said, as if a load had 
 dropped from him. " Now, then, I'm here — I've 
 done it. If anyone calls — I'll hear 'em before they 
 knock." 
 
 He sat on, puffing steadily at his cigarettes^ 
 and stirring now and then to look at the clock or 
 glance around him. Outwardly cool and common- 
 place, there was pent within him a sort of dull 
 ecstasy that he had neither the imaginativeness 
 nor the desire to let loose for analysis. He was 
 here, according to premeditation ; but he did not 
 know what would happen. Queer position 1 
 
 The almost total absence of sound gradually 
 induced a drug-like effect, and seemed to carry 
 him farther and farther away from the world 
 ringing him about. A series of little pictures, 
 bioscopic-like, passed before him. He saw Hun- 
 gerford lying in the room above, with the long thin 
 fingers reaching across the coverlet ; he saw Mr. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 285 
 
 Shadd wiping his hands on the greasy, long-ser- 
 vice cloth below the counter away in Tamplin 
 Street — and Selina leaning breathlessly over the 
 balustrade, to see if the way below was clear for 
 a dash ; he saw Barking High Street, with its 
 blazing shops, and the clanging electric cars forg- 
 ing a slow way through the crowds. And then, 
 after a brief blank, Mr. Casswade's figure bulked 
 on the mental sheet — and the motionless watcher's 
 fingers clenched and strained. It was coming 
 toward him — bigger and bigger — toward the house 
 in Mandalay Gardens 
 
 What was that ? A knocking at the front door ? 
 
 He swayed up in a tingle. It took him so long 
 to get his grip on living realities again that it 
 almost seemed he must have dozed off. A knock 
 — yes. And perhaps not the first, or the second, 
 for Ella was coming down the stair. He dug 
 his nails into his palms in chagrin, held his 
 breath, and stood ready to dart out. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 The front door was open. There was an un- 
 accountable pause, and then a voice — not the 
 voice that had seemed absolutely inevitable, but a 
 woman's, chilling and yet rich. 
 
 ** Ay, I think you know me — I think you will 
 not need to ask why I have condescended to 
 call here.*' 
 
 No answer seemed to come from Hungerford's 
 Ella. Only by instinct he could picture her, stand- 
 ing very still, her wide eyes reflecting the blank 
 in her mind. He forgot to ask himself whether 
 his own position at the moment was not as 
 awkward as mean. He took an unconscious step 
 nearer, craning to listen. 
 
 The door had closed. The caller was inside. 
 
 ** I have nothing to say to you," came the same 
 passionless voice. ** I wish to see my James. 
 Where is he?" 
 
 ** You — you cannot I " Ella seemed to come to 
 herself, with a hushed, trembling little cry, and 
 put out her hands. ** Oh, you would not — you 
 would not try to come between him and his 
 wife. You have found him — but not to-night — 
 he is weak and ill ! " 
 
 ** I know it ; thank you, I have just left his 
 doctor, and know it full well. His wife? — I am 
 not so sure of that — not so sure that he has sunk 
 himself to that degree. Please do not touch me. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 287 
 
 I repeat, I wish to hear nothing from you. Allow 
 me — my son's house I " 
 
 She had swept by, and was rustling steadily up 
 the staircase. A faint perfume of violets reached 
 Baversham's nostrils, as he stood rooted just 
 behind the door ajar. His mouth had opened for 
 a sound that dare not escape ; every nerve in him 
 shook and pulled, yet he could not move. The 
 truth of the bated bit of tragedy had reached his 
 brain with such swiftness as to deaden it. This 
 was the woman who had watched the lit window 
 above from outside ; this was the woman to whom 
 Hungerford owed his existence, — this was a woman 
 who could coldly sacrifice another woman on the 
 altar of caste and contempt. 
 
 Somewhere still and mute in the passage stood 
 Hungerford 's wife. Just the door shut off her 
 agony. He had no right there — it galled him 
 to have to know even so much — he must not 
 intrude, nor seek to know more. In all truth, he 
 did not want to realise or remember ; but the fas- 
 cination of the incredible was strong. 
 
 It might have been five minutes, or fifteen, 
 before the rustle sounded on the staircase again. 
 At the foot the woman halted. He could see 
 countless black sequins shimmering upoft her skirt,- 
 heavy furs muffling her stately throat and breast, 
 and nodding ears of black wheat in her bonnet. 
 She spoke, with a bitter tranquility. 
 
 " Just so I My son has nothing to say to me. 
 He has snapped all social and family ties to please 
 a typist in his father's City office. If he should 
 never recover from his illness, you will have the 
 satisfaction " 
 
2'88 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Oh", no — no' I '* Ella put in, in the same hushed 
 way. ** He loves me, and wants me ; and there is 
 no shame in it, and no disgrace in God's sight 
 to you, his mother. He was only true to him- 
 self, as you would wish him to be, when you told 
 him to choose between love and position. He 
 has never regretted it ; we are happy ; he will 
 work for me ; he will never ask your pity or your 
 help in any way ** 
 
 *' Will he not? " She gave a soft little laugh, 
 more stinging than all the anger of another type 
 of woman could have been. ** Has he not already 
 pleaded for that help? " 
 
 *' No ! '* said Ella, breathlessly. And the 
 woman held up something that had been crushed 
 in her gloved fingers. 
 
 ** Strange,*' she laughed softly again — tod 
 proud, maybe, to weep. *' This letter was posted 
 — from a false address — more than three weeks 
 ago. It was written to a family friend, whose 
 sense of honour guided it into my hands. In it, 
 he begs for a loan of twenty-five pounds, to be 
 repaid in instalments, with interest. Twenty-five 
 pounds — instalments — my son ! . . . Hush, not 
 another word, please 1 Enough that your husband 
 — if he be that — has a sword above his head for 
 that paltry amount. I gather that it is about to 
 fall. It may fall, so far as we are concerned, 
 unless he chooses to revert to sanity. I think he 
 will 1 With you, I have nothing to do : the wrong 
 of the family is too often forgotten in morbid 
 sentiment for the woman concerned. He has sunk 
 to — this 1 " She looked around her, one gloved 
 hand extended eloquently. The hand dropped. *' I 
 
LOW SOCIETY 289 
 
 think he will — if only because he must ! Let me 
 pass, please," she whispered. *' I have told my 
 son that he is saved or lost — as he chooses to- 
 night." 
 
 As the outer door closed, with a dull bang of 
 finality, Baversham stumbled back for his seat at 
 the fireplace, and rustled his newspaper in shaking 
 fingers. He even tried humming to himself — 
 anything to blot out the impression that he had 
 both seen and heard. He was quite prepared, if 
 Ella came groping in, to start up with a yawn. 
 
 But there was no further tangible sound. It 
 had happened and passed like a scrap of melo- 
 drama on a stage. He sat stiffly on for a long 
 time — till he could bear it no longer — till he had 
 grown cold. He looked at his watch. Just upon 
 six o'clock I 
 
 He stood up. His original grand intentions, 
 growing more and more puny and impracticable, 
 slipped quite away from him. He looked all 
 round him, saw a big book, and callously tore out 
 the blank fly-leaf. He took a fountain-pen from 
 his pocket and wrote something very large and 
 legible across it. Then he tiptoed out. 
 
 The passage was clear. Hastily, yet carefully, 
 he attached his paper by a pin prominently to 
 the wall. Just a moment he allowed himself to 
 pause with a hand behind his ear. Yes — yes — 
 he was willing to make an open bet with himself 
 that he and his brave Christmas array in the rear 
 parlour had been quite forgotten. He could dis- 
 tinguish a far-off sound that his crude intuition 
 interpreted as a clinging woman's sobs and a 
 weak man's soothing murmur. Yes, Ella knew of 
 
 L.s. u 
 
290 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 Casswade's ultimatum now. This was the hour 
 of their darkness — the hour sacred to husband 
 and wife. He felt inexpressibly chilled — the 
 oozing away of his picturesque programme left a 
 soreness ; and yet he was glad to go unseen and 
 unheard — it left just a remnant of the romance. 
 
 Very cautiously he opened the door and clicked 
 it behind him. The raw outer air, after that 
 drug-like atmosphere of the rear room, rushed at 
 him like an engulfing wave ; but he was not 
 noticing details to-night. He set off down the 
 pavement at a hasty trot. Exactly where it would 
 end, he did not know ; but, as it happened, cir- 
 cumstances dovetailed nicely. For, only at the 
 lefthand corner by the main road, his head down 
 and his arms drawn up for a sustained run, he 
 butted full into something that yielded like a mass 
 of india-rubber. 
 
 ** Con -bloomin' -found it, you clumsy monkey, 
 can't you see a man comin' ? " bellowed a voice. 
 And Baversham doubled convulsively. There was 
 only one voice like it in Barking Town. 
 
 ** Sorry," Baversham panted. He spat on his 
 hands, squared his rather sloping shoulders, and 
 was himself again. " Sorry," he repeated, cheer- 
 fully. " Might have seemed I meant it ; but I 
 didn't — as I didn't see you comin'. Merry Chris'- 
 mus, Mr. Casswade, and many of 'em. Here's 
 your hat." 
 
 "Oh, it's you, is it?" blurted Mr. Casswade, 
 so taken aback that he remained a moment bare- 
 headed. His brain was not quite quick enough 
 to recall in a flash just how he stood in regard 
 to Baversham. " What are you doin' up here, eh ? " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 291 
 
 It was terribly tempting to answer : " Well, I 
 
 thought about buyin' a house " ; but Baver- 
 
 sham had a different shaft up his sleeve to-night. 
 '* Nothin' much," he said. " Only lookin' for 
 you." 
 
 "Me?" Casswade glared at him with open 
 distrust, but not a muscle of the cool, freckly face 
 would twitch. "A deep 'un, ain't you?" Cass- 
 wade muttered, all his vague suspicions concen- 
 trating before that provoking stare. 
 
 " Ay ! What you an' me know *ud make a 
 book, wouldn't it ? Yes, we've been expectin* 
 you these two hours. Coin' to have a drink?" 
 he queried, innocently. 
 
 There was no public -house near ; but that small 
 fact was drowned in Mr. Casswade 's boiling re- 
 sentment at the bare suggestion itself. Refusing 
 to reply, save for a throat -rumble, he was moving 
 on down Mandalay Gardens. 
 
 *' Hold hard I " With a jerk Baversham swung 
 him round. If the pavement had risen and hit 
 him, Mr. Casswade could not have been more 
 astounded ; he positively could not speak, much 
 less strike out. ** Bis'ness first," Baversham said, 
 briefly. "That's your motto, ain't it? You've 
 saved me goin' to your house ; out here '11 do jest 
 as well. Got a penny stamp on you? " 
 
 " Look here," gasped Mr. Casswade strainingly, 
 with a sudden clutch on the other's coat sleeve. 
 " I know your game. I've known it for a long 
 time. Yes, you I You're the man I've been goin' 
 to charge in Court with defamation o' character 
 and false report — and I've got you." 
 
 " Funny, ain't it ? " said Baversham, rather pale, 
 
 u 2 
 
292 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 but not moving. '* Who's your counsel? You're 
 the man I'm issuin' a writ against for the very 
 same thing — and for obtainin' private letters from 
 clerks in a lawyer's office and showin' 'em outside 
 to libel the man who had 'em written as a bait. 
 I've got witnesses. Have you? " 
 
 For a moment Mr. Casswade stood rigid, only 
 his throat at work. Then his arm dropped away. 
 " This 'ere's blackmail," he said, half to himself. 
 ** That's what this is — blackmail. Where's the 
 p'lice?" 
 
 "Boozin'. It's Chris'mus Eve. Sign this," 
 was Baversham's casual response. 
 
 He had taken a paper from his breast-pocket, 
 and held it out with one hand, a fountain-pen in 
 the other. And, spite of himself, Casswade's 
 bulging eyes had to look down. 
 
 "December 24th, 19 — . Received from Mr. 
 J. Hungerford the sum of £25 (twenty - five 
 pounds) in full settlement of a loan made upon 
 Note-of-hand dated September loth, 19 — , and 
 of all and any other claims in respect of the pur- 
 chase of premises known as Number Nine, Man- 
 dalay Gardens, in the County of Essex." 
 
 " That's it," said Baversham. " Don't want 
 readin' twice. The rest o' the bis'ness is between 
 him and the Loan Society now. Jest put the 
 stamp and your name." 
 
 ** Where's the money?" asked Casswade, 
 hoarsely derisive. " Who sent it? " 
 
 " Here's your money." He held up a small 
 canvas bag. "Mr. Hungerford sent me with it. 
 It meets all the legal requirements you can think 
 of. And I'm gettin' cold, if you ain't." 
 
LOW SOCIETY 293 
 
 " I'll see him." Roused beyond the point of 
 expressing his feelings, Mr. Casswade made a 
 move — to be plucked round again in the same 
 unparalleled manner. This time Baversham actu- 
 ally tiptoed to stare him close in the eyes. 
 
 *' No, you won't. For one thing, he's ill in 
 bed and can't see anyone ; for another, he told 
 me to say he won't have even the smell of you 
 on his premises again. Say the word 1 If you 
 don't want the money I'll run it down to your 
 lawyer's, with full particulars — and take my oppor- 
 tunity to get some information about his clerks 
 and his private letters." 
 
 A pause. If looks could paralyse, he would 
 never have done another day's work ; but Baver- 
 sham could stand a lot of inspection — especially 
 just now. Gradually it was borne in upon Mr. 
 Casswade that he had been pushed into a cul-de- 
 sac^ and that to prolong the little scene might 
 attract unwelcome attention to the property. Be- 
 sides, cash was still cash, however tendered. He 
 wiped his reeking forehead, looked around, and 
 saw the faint light in the hall at Number One. 
 
 '* Jest step over to my foreman's," he muttered. 
 *' We'll soon see. I don't do bis'ness in the; 
 bloomin' open street." 
 
 Josh himself answered the thumping bang. 
 Soapsuds dripping from his thin, knotty arms, he 
 stared. At first he scented belated house -pur- 
 chase — until he could compare the two faces v:on- 
 fronting him. 
 
 ** Just been bathin' the youngsters," he said, 
 apologetically. ** Bein* Christmas Eve " 
 
 Mr. Casswade gave him a flying push inwards. 
 
294 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 ** Don't you start about Chris'mus Eve 1 I jest 
 want to sign a paper for this — this gentleman here. 
 Keep your kids out o* sight, that's all I say. Now 
 you can go on with your bathin*." 
 
 Josh, with only a little cough, had led the way 
 into his front room and lit the gas. He retired. 
 It was the first time, maybe, that Casswade had 
 omitted to point out the criminal folly of having 
 an unlucky number — beginning with nine 
 children . 
 
 " Now, then," said Casswade, theatrically. In 
 that brief respite he had partially recovered him- 
 self, and decided to assume the offensive. He 
 particularly hoped that the repayment included 
 a cheque, which he could refuse to look at. "I 
 don't want any more Beckton bluster from you. 
 Count it out there." 
 
 He lit a cigar and struck an attitude. Baver- 
 sham responded by lighting a cigarette, and then 
 poured out a little pile of sovereigns. " Mind 
 countin' *em yourself? " he said, folding his arms. 
 
 " You bloomin' puppy," the other breathed. 
 Nevertheless, the move was against him. With 
 a fat forefinger he contemptuously ticked off each 
 coin in turn — twenty-five in all. Reluctantly he 
 found and affixed a stamp — and then paused in 
 triumph. "Here, what about the interest?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " There's no interest," Baversham replied, 
 smoking fastidiously. 
 
 " No interest? Oh, ain't there? Then there's 
 no receipt. You tell him that." 
 
 ** There's no interest," Baversham repeated. ** I 
 bought a turkey with that." He sauntered round 
 
LOW SOCIETY 295 
 
 and stood near the door. " Wish you wouldn't 
 muck about so," he added, as Casswade's wolfish 
 stare followed him round. ** If you goggle at me 
 all night you won't get any more. For heaven's 
 sake, shove your name on it. He'll have all his 
 kids bathed and on the line by this time." 
 
 "May I be— may I be " Mr. Casswade 
 
 could get no farther. It seemed to him that his 
 throat was closing up, and that everything looked 
 crimson . 
 
 " I wouldn't wish that," Baversham had advised, 
 lightly. " Wait till you get into the p'lice-court 
 dock for libel — against me and against Loney the 
 builder — and one or two other little things such as 
 sellin' houses to people so as you can get *em back 
 at half the price through your agent. I tell you 
 straight " — he took out his watch — ** I'm stuck 
 for time. There's a whole crowd round here 
 wants to know who was the ' Mrs. Casswade ' you 
 took to Number Nine that night I dropped in so 
 accidental. If I don't have that receipt quick, 
 I'm goin' out to tell 'em." 
 
 " The interest " gurgled Casswade, his arm 
 
 raised for a shattering blow upon the table. He 
 was cut short again. Baversham made an un- 
 pleasantly professional move toward him, and put 
 both hands to his mouth for a series of shouts . 
 
 " There's no interest. I bought a turkey with 
 it — understand that ? A great turkey with a red 
 neck and long legs. I wouldn't let him pay more 
 if you fetched all the p'lice in Barkin'. Sign it, 
 or come outside and have it all out on the pave- 
 ment. You rotten swindler, jerry - builder and 
 private-letter stealer, sign the man's receipt I " 
 
296 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 Speechless, almost suffocated, Mr. Casswade 
 went back step by step, and stood while the 
 stunning sounds died away — at the far end of 
 Barking, it verily seemed. The interest was noth- 
 ing, but to have to stand, as he afterwards said, 
 " like a bloomin' Goliath and see the pebble bein* 
 slung fair at his bloomin' forehead " 
 
 What Mr. Casswade possessed in bulk, he 
 lacked in fibre. A sort of sickness swept him ; 
 his stomach threatened to add to the indignity 
 of the position and spoil Josh's parlour. Scarcely 
 realising, he groped forward, seized the pen, and 
 scrawled " M. Casswade " with difficulty across the 
 stamp. Then he turned, with odd noises in his 
 throat . 
 
 " Drop my pen," said Baversham. And it 
 was dropped like a live coal. " Thanks, that'll 
 do." He picked up the paper, and was at the 
 door. " Merry Chris 'mus to you and Mrs. Cass- 
 wade 1 " he said loudly ; and was gone. 
 
 Two or three minutes later. Josh ventured to 
 peer in. He discovered strong cause for com- 
 plaint, but he withheld it : Mr. Casswade looked 
 so yellow — and the Christmas boxes for the nine 
 children were not yet forthcoming. He was 
 thoughtful enough to suggest a spoonful of brandy, 
 and to wish that he had some in the house, 
 but if a spoonful of vinegar would do as 
 well ■- 
 
 ** Get out of it," rattled Mr. Casswade. "I'll 
 talk to you later. I'm bad." 
 
 He was. His hat rolled off as he staggered out 
 at the gate, and he did not notice it. It was not 
 until he got well down the main road, and caught a 
 
LOW SOCIETY 297 
 
 glimpse of himself in a shop -mirror, that he dimly 
 grasped what he had gone through. 
 
 " Lost my hat," he muttered, to the man stand- 
 ing at the doorway. "Got anythin' ? — don't 
 matter what it is." And the man darted in and 
 fetched out an old bowler, three sizes too small. 
 
 ** Absolutely just right," he said, clapping it on 
 with some force. *' Lucky touch, sir. Two bob, 
 sir, if you don't mind. Thank'ee ! " It was the 
 best and quickest deal he had had that day ; and 
 he was grateful. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Fortunately for Mr. Casswade no wind 
 sprang up. The bowler perched with a capti- 
 vating bias on one side of his head, he rolled on 
 down the road. Where he was going, or with 
 what object, he could not have told ; there was a 
 bubbling, bursting sensation within him to be 
 worked off somehow ere he could think sanely 
 again. As he got nearer to the congested heart 
 of Barking Old Town, now simply a roar of mul- 
 titudinous sounds, the crowd grew thicker and 
 thicker ; but he gripped the small hat and forged 
 on. Just possibly a hazy connection of ideas had 
 suggested that if he worked his way toward Tamp- 
 lin Street, he might come face to face again with 
 young Baversham. He dreaded any such en- 
 counter ; yet he thirsted to do something suitably 
 sanguinary — to clutch at something alive and rend 
 it to pieces. 
 
 " Hold up, guv 'nor," said a resentful voice. 
 " Who are you shovin' off the road? " 
 
 *' Deal him one out," said another voice. ** Bust 
 him. I would." 
 
 Mr. Casswade cleared his eyes — that were 
 smarting as after a plunge into brine — and 
 found himself beating against the outer edge 
 of a packed mass of people. A stiff prod from 
 some elbow had sobered him a trifle ; he made a 
 grab to save his two -shilling hat, and stood still to 
 
LOW SOCIETY 299 
 
 get his mental balance likewise. For a moment 
 it was all a vague blur and thunder ; then he 
 gathered that he was at the " Socialist " pitch in 
 one corner of the triangle, and that the voice of 
 the speaker was becoming more and more familiar. 
 
 It was not that of the little marionette -man — 
 not to-night. He was there, seated on the platform, 
 looking all around him as if ready to spring up 
 if necessary, and execute a series of thrilling 
 movements to express pent-up despair for his 
 fellow-men ; but to-night's chief speaker was a 
 man with a calm face and smiling eyes — a man 
 who had no need to shout dramatically even on 
 that spot, because his personal magnetism served 
 the same purpose. 
 
 " Let us have the truth, even though it be 
 bitter," he said. *' Every big city in England 
 to-night is a cauldron of misery and discontent. 
 They keep the lid hard down — but they may not 
 be able to do it for ever. When Our Master said : 
 ' The Poor ye have always with you,' He did not 
 grant one man the right to gross superfluity while 
 his neighbour starved. When its pockets are 
 touched, this England, that spends so much upon 
 its parade of religion before the world, demon- 
 strates that its real creed is still — ' Might is 
 Right.' " 
 
 Then Mr. Casswade knew. It was the even- 
 voiced, imperturbable man who could sit in a 
 public -house without drinking beer — the man with 
 peculiar views as to Romanism at home. 
 
 '* This," he went on, *' is the eve of the Day 
 when Christ was born to teach us how hard it is 
 for a rich man to enter Heaven . Apparently, no one 
 
300 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 in High Society — or in the Church — has any 
 desire whatever to enter Heaven. At this moment, 
 how fare the army of men who live professedly to 
 set you and me an example — who preach the 
 Christ who ' had not where to lay His Head ' ? 
 Every one of them is well-fed, well -clothed, well- 
 housed, and decorating his costly church with 
 emblems. What of you, whom they are pledged 
 before God to save and succour? Hundreds of 
 thousands of you have not a Christmas dinner — 
 not a shilling in sight — not a hope in life. What 
 an eloquent commentary upon the sincerity of our 
 Church ! 
 
 " Your wives — many of them — have to work. 
 What are they paid for their labour, while neg- 
 lecting their homes? I'll give you an instance." 
 He held up something. " This tribute to human 
 unselfishness has travelled all over the country. 
 Its duplicate in thousands fills the shop -windows. 
 It is a seventeen -and -sixpenny ' stock ' lady's cos- 
 tume. It was made for one -and -a -penny, the 
 maker finding her own working materials. I have 
 seen another specimen — a motor-coat — to be 
 bought anywhere for thirty shillings . Down in the 
 God -forsaken East End one woman receives two 
 shillings for making it — and going blind in the 
 process . 
 
 ** How do we live and die — we who are kept at 
 the bottom of the social scale ? Here are just a 
 few of the latest official figures for London — the 
 wealthiest city in the whole world, with property 
 in buildings alone valued at far above a thousand 
 millions of pounds. What do they show? That 
 one person in every thirty-three is a destitute 
 
LOW SOCIETY 301 
 
 pauper. That twenty persons in every hundred 
 die in a workhouse or a workhouse infirmary. 
 These are the figures for London as a whole. 
 Ninety per cent, of that ghastly total is furnished 
 by you^ the oppressed, the workless, the " 
 
 Mr. Casswade suddenly realised that he was 
 being asked to grapple with poverty statistics — 
 things he loathed — turned unsteadily, and was 
 going back the way he had come. The roar of 
 sound and glow of lights died behind him. He 
 passed near his own house, but he would not 
 pause — he could not. He felt he must do some- 
 thing — trample upon and worry something — or 
 the arch of his head would lift. Even the thought 
 of refreshment failed to appeal to him. 
 
 He came panting back again to the corner of 
 Mandalay Gardens. He paused, his hands strain- 
 ing up. Wherever he looked to-night, there were 
 bright lights, and everywhere an ironical blaze in 
 the heavens. He was as one shut out. At this 
 minute, perhaps, at Number Nine — down in Tamp- 
 lin Street — maybe in the " local " itself — they 
 were all laughing at him as a spent force. There 
 was not even the dull sound of a hammer at work 
 to-night : even prosaic, hard-working Josh was 
 taking things easy. 
 
 It was like the impending end of his career — 
 yes. It maddened him. He strode on impotently, 
 and glared along the site of his new block. . . . 
 Gradually — insensibly — ^his heavy breathing slack- 
 ened off. Head thrust forward, he moved a 
 stealthy step or two over the mortar -littered grass. 
 In the shadow of the houses he resembled a 
 great animal about to charge. . . . Down there 
 
302 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 — down there in the steel -coloured light from 
 above, moved a figure that was of the world and 
 yet not of it. Now it stooped as to pick up some- 
 thing, now it leaned back to look up at the half- 
 finished walls ; now it tugged critically, conscien- 
 tiously, at a section of the scaffolding. 
 
 ** There you are ! " muttered Casswade tensely 
 to himself. ** There you are, are you? If I don't 
 put your light out, you'll put mine I ** 
 
 Feeling along by the fence, he got nearer and 
 nearer. It was not so much the man himself that 
 he had grown to fear : it was the fact of his 
 silence, his persistency — his madness, that of late 
 had seemed to assume a sinister method. His 
 small brain incapable of gauging true perspective, 
 Casswade was that night a Frankenstein ; and 
 Loney was the monster he had helped to fashion. 
 
 Now he was almost abreast of the figure. As, 
 with arms crossed, it paced back toward the first 
 finished houses, he moved with it. He had no 
 intentions whatever ; but his bottled-up chagrin 
 had found an outlet. He tingled with Satanic 
 impulses that fed upon this other man's supreme 
 detachment and calm air of proprietorship. 
 
 Presently — perhaps for the twentieth time that 
 evening — Loney turned placidly in at a doorless 
 doorway and was lost in the darkness. For a 
 moment his feet could be heard crunching on the 
 boards — then all was quiet. Casswade made a 
 swift little detour on tiptoe, reached the same door- 
 way, and listened. Presently he struck a match, 
 and waved it inside. Seeing nothing, he advanced 
 a step or two and struck another match to peer 
 into the small front room. Nothing I Stealing 
 
LOW SOCIETY 303 
 
 on, he tried the rear rooms ; and each time his 
 match -light showed vacancy. He came back to 
 the stair. The devilment drew him to try it — 
 unwholesome dread held him in check. 
 
 Up he went, with laboured stealth, like an 
 animal unadapted to climbing. It was the 
 " stock " staircase of his own design and erection, 
 but he personally was not used to such cramped 
 environment. His head and shoulders came above 
 the level of the upper floor. The roof had only 
 just been begun ; through ceiling rafters he was 
 looking up at the brilliant open sky. It was pro- 
 bable that, with his bulk, his short sight, and his 
 instinctive distrust of the eggshell brickwork with 
 the mortar conceivably not yet set, he would have 
 allowed himself no farther. Years of supine sloth 
 and self -gratification had left him " soft " and 
 nerveless — a builder only in theory. But his fat 
 hand, feeling out, touched something. It was the 
 foot of a ladder, just loosely roped to the balus- 
 trade. And then he looked up again, and knew. 
 
 The ladder had been left reared against the 
 chimney stack. At the top, a little darker than 
 the outstanding square of masonry itself, he could 
 distinguish the elusive figure. Loney had calmly 
 mounted the rungs — perhaps to inspect the stack 
 — and now stood perched sideways upon it, his 
 arms folded again, as unconscious above the 
 gaping chasms as though the solid earth were 
 beneath his feet. 
 
 Something whistled in Casswade*s throat, where 
 the hoarse challenging shout had been abruptly 
 checked. The slow - rising passion suddenly 
 swelled to the point where it became brief insanity. 
 
304 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 He felt for the rope -coils, and feverishly unslung 
 them. Then, his eyes turned down, he shifted 
 his hands up to about the fifth rung, gripped it 
 hard in the middle, set his feet against the wall 
 behind, and prepared for the heave of his body — 
 the sudden forward pull — that should jerk Lon^y 
 somewhere into space. 
 
 It came, together with a great burst of his 
 breath. Simultaneously came the sick reaction : 
 horrible fear of the sound of a fallen body — and 
 of the afterwards. He had to look up. 
 
 In some way, not to be explained, Loney had 
 sensed the fumbling below, and got a hold ; he 
 was clinging on. The ladder, exactly upright, was 
 swayingly balanced for a fall either way, and top- 
 heavy with its living burden. And for a span of 
 seconds, such was the effort his swollen fingers 
 put out, Casswade held it in that position, the 
 sweat streaming from every pore of his body. To 
 relax — to let the ladder go either way — meant 
 murder in cold blood ; and he knew it. 
 
 It was going — going. Convulsively he heaved, 
 and just saved it. It swayed back, balanced 
 again, and began to topple the other way— 
 forward. One more superhuman effort he made 
 to arrest its progress, but too late. All his 
 strength oozed out in a rush. With a muffled 
 scream, to drown the noise of the crash, he turned 
 to bolt down the narrow staircase, — missed his 
 footing, and lay in a heap at the bottom, one leg 
 doubled up beneath him. He was just conscious 
 that a bone in that leg had snapped like a carrot. 
 
 Perhaps he swooned then and there ; that he 
 would never know. His next realisation was of 
 
LOW SOCIETY 305 
 
 an utter stillness that seemed to be of the grave 
 itself — of a cold numbness in every limb — of in- 
 ertia so profound that it deadened even his pain. 
 But he would not attempt to move or shout — no, 
 he would not do that, if he lay there the night 
 long, and was found dead and stiff on Christmas 
 morning. Somewhere near him — perhaps almost 
 within touching distance — Loney must be 
 stretched ; and Loney had not emitted a soimd. 
 And the finding of Loney's body would put a rope 
 around the living man's neck. 
 
 He lay, and fancied himself slowly passing 
 away. There had been a considerable store of 
 heat in his big body, but it was all but exhausted 
 now. He could even feel a glimmer of mental 
 exaltation in the thought that he had repented — 
 had tried to save Loney I He pictured all the 
 glow and noise of Barking Town. He saw himself 
 being carried lifeless on a shutter down the main 
 road, and in at the door of his house. He could 
 almost hear Miss Pugh's wild cry. Only in this 
 strange lethargic hour, when to cheat himself was 
 useless and impossible, did he admit that he had 
 been an uncouth taskmaster to Miss Pugh. She 
 had given up the best years of her life for him, 
 and kept his house spotless. 
 
 The minutes passed. They seemed as hours. 
 Little bubbles were rising in his throat. He 
 thought he heard bells ringing. With his face 
 still lying sideways against the dirty boards, just 
 as he had fallen, he tried to recall the last time he 
 had been inside a church. This was difficult, 
 and he failed. But he was curiously softened ; he 
 knew a line or two of a hymn, and muttered them 
 
 L.S. X 
 
3o6 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 feebly through: He had passed into the mental 
 condition in which, had he been able, he would 
 have dragged himself at least as far as 
 Loney's still figure, wherever it was — just to 
 touch it. 
 
 Maybe he was passing from swoon to swoon. 
 All volition had been paralysed by the fact that 
 he feared to live on. He could never face a Court 
 of his fellow-men. It would have to be suicide 
 in the prison cell. 
 
 And then, suddenly, a light shone into his eyes. 
 It was death at hand — he firmly believed it ; the 
 last long groan sounded in his throat. . . . 
 Over him played the light unsteadily. Something 
 touched him, and lifted his arm. He had a queer 
 conviction that the arm, as it dropped back, was 
 already dead. 
 
 '* Casswade I Why, what's the matter? " asked 
 a far-away voice. *' Mr. Casswade 1 " 
 
 ** Josh ! " he murmured back, by sheer instinct. 
 " Josh ! " It was Josh. He had come round 
 with a lantern for his tools, left in one of the 
 houses . This often happened — and it had 
 happened to-night. He knelt down in stupe- 
 faction . 
 
 "I'm goin'. Josh," Casswade whispered, like a 
 child. ** Number's up. I'm goin'." 
 
 *' You're not," Josh whispered back, with a 
 rattle. He knew, at least, that this facial greyness 
 had nothing to do with drink. " What's been 
 the matter ? ' ' 
 
 " Look round," Casswade muttered. He would 
 have said more, even to his own eternal undoing ; 
 but the effort trailed off. He gave a long, quiver- 
 
LOW SOCIETY 307 
 
 ing moan. " Take me home," he could just say. 
 ** Take me home." 
 
 And then all was dark . 
 
 When the shutter of darkness slid back just a 
 little, he saw — not the Beyond, but the walls of a 
 vaguely - familiar room. Two or three people 
 moved silently, quickly about, as if making pre- 
 parations. And one of them looked like Miss 
 Pugh. 
 
 He gave yet another groan, of a different kind 
 — and willingly sank back into oblivion. 
 
 X 2 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Safe outside Number One with his signed re- 
 ceipt, Baversham had skipped across the road to 
 an obscure corner, executed a little hornpipe 
 before a well-dressed lady illustrating a tailor's 
 advertisement poster, and then soberly proceeded 
 to business. Baversham believed in strict system, 
 and in doing nothing by halves. 
 
 From an inner pocket he fished a nice clean 
 envelope, into which he carefully placed the re- 
 ceipt. This envelope was a work of art prepared 
 beforehand, and he allowed himself a last critical 
 survey of it at arm's length. There was no 
 address, but great pains had been taken with a 
 luxuriant scroll of holly-leaves enclosing a sketch 
 of two leviathan hands clasped. Below this was a 
 suitable verse, which had taken him nearly an 
 hour to compose, and with which he scarcely liked 
 to part : — 
 
 " Accept of this Loan with Love to-day, 
 For when you can I know you'll pay ; 
 And should you let it worry you, 
 I would I hadn't lent it you." 
 
 A minute later he had slipped it into the letter- 
 box at Number Nine, given a loud postman's 
 knock, and stooped, ready to run. Through the 
 glass panel, after a pause, he saw Hungerford's 
 wife coming down the stair. Her eyes looked 
 
LOW SOCIETY 309 
 
 swollen, and her step was lifeless ; but that he had 
 expected. First of all she caught sight of the 
 large paper he had left pinned to the wall, and 
 stood to wonder what it could mean and how it 
 had come there. 
 
 ** If Mr. Casswade calls here, simply tell him 
 that the necessary answer has gone on to his house. 
 Don't say another word, but shut the door, and 
 oblige G. Baversham." 
 
 A long time she gazed blankly, and then seemed 
 to remember, brought her hands tightly together, 
 and turned to look into the rear parlour. Baver- 
 sham chuckled, albeit there was a thickness in his 
 throat. Turning again, with a hand to her fore- 
 head, she saw the letter lying there, and recalled 
 the knock. 
 
 She had it now. She went back slow step by 
 step, until beneath the gaslight. Baversham would 
 never forget her expression, nor his own sup- 
 pressed sensations, as she read his composition. 
 Did she fully comprehend ? No ! Tremblingly, 
 unaware of the peering eyes, she opened the en- 
 velope and drew out its contents. Next moment — 
 next moment she had sunk down upon the lowest 
 stair, and sob after sob was shaking her. But only 
 for an instant. Then she had swayed up, with a 
 broken cry, waving the precious bit of paper. 
 
 •• Jim ! Boy— Boy 1 Oh, thank God 1— oh, that 
 dear, kindhearted fellow has ..." 
 
 Baversham *s face went hot ; he turned and 
 scuttled off like a startled rabbit . All over I 
 
 Twenty minutes more, and his stiff little figure 
 emerged into Barking High Street. He felt 
 absurdly happy, but he was not showing it to 
 
3IO LOW SOCIETY 
 
 anyone. There was still a ticklish, if prosaic, bit 
 of seasonable diplomacy to be accomplished with- 
 out fuss. He drew up before a poulterer's shop, 
 and scanned the serried array of fowl with an air 
 of determination and ripe judgment. Strictly 
 speaking, not until now had his allusion to a turkey 
 been anything more than a sarcastic fiction. 
 
 A man swooped down on him, with the mistaken 
 eagerness of his kind. 
 
 '* Yes, sir — all English birds, sir 1 I'll warrant 
 every one. You never tasted anything like 'em 
 in your life. Look at 'em ! " 
 
 " That's what I want to do," he replied, tartly. 
 ** I've got my own eyes. I'll let you know if 
 there's one that suits me." 
 
 There was, but it came to sixteen shillings. On 
 a point of principle George offered twelve. 
 Finally, with reluctance, he raised the bid to 
 fifteen ; and at that he was adamant. " Take it, 
 or leave it," he said. And, in the end, declaring 
 himself robbed and broken-hearted, the man took 
 it. George marched off with a deep breath of 
 triumph, and a great mat bag from which the 
 turkey's unnatural neck dangled. All down Bark- 
 ing main thoroughfare he was followed by the 
 admiring, envious eyes of the crowd ; but that was 
 as nothing as to what was to come. 
 
 It seemed a very long time since he had turned 
 off into Tamplin Street. A little wave of revulsion 
 made him hesitate seriously even now. ** Said I 
 never would again," he reflected ; " and here I 
 am comin' up with a nineteen -pound turkey." 
 
 ** What, no mistletoe, sir, to go with it ? " asked 
 a woman. And that turned the scale. 
 
LOW SOCIETY 311 
 
 ** Yes, come on — three penn'orth," he said, with 
 a surge of recklessness. *' May as well go the 
 whole bloomin' hog." 
 
 " Not harf, sir," said the woman, heartily. 
 ** There you are — and a sprig in for the baby." 
 
 Pausing long enough to withdraw the skewers 
 from his mat bag, so that the contents could be 
 shot out with a dramatic swiftness, Baversham 
 made his way up Tamplin Street. Mr. Shadd, a 
 belated cup of tea lifted to his mouth with one 
 hand, and serving mixed pickles with the other, 
 had a somewhat sordid appearance. Contrasting 
 the domestic atmosphere here with that of Number 
 Nine, Mandalay Gardens, George found himself 
 mentally regretting again that he had not " picked 
 up " with Mrs. Hungerford — or someone like her 
 — instead of Shadd 's girl. Still, he reflected 
 generously, that was not Selina's fault. 
 
 He went on, and knocked at the side door. All 
 depended upon who answered the knock. 
 
 It was Selina. She stared, gave a very genuine 
 little gasp, and then flung her arms all around 
 him. " Oh, you darling I " she said, shakily. 
 " Oh, youVe come to surprise us, you have. Oh, 
 it's George — it's George ! " 
 
 George was disgusted, the operation taking 
 place on the doorstep ; but for once, as a special 
 event, he suppressed his feelings. Holding him 
 tightly by the arm, in case he might escape, 
 Selina drew him into the room behind the shop, 
 hugged him again till she was breathless, danced 
 round the room in a sort of delirium, and then 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Well, I'm blowed — I never did ! " said Baver- 
 
312 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 sham, adjusting his tie and collar again. ** Any- 
 one 'ud think I was home from China on three 
 minutes* leave. I only came to say I shouldn't 
 be able to meet you up the road at nine o'clock." 
 
 "Why not?" she breathed, in sudden fear. 
 ** Whyever not ? " 
 
 A moment he left her in suspense . Then, ready 
 to dodge any more hugging, he said, carelessly : 
 ** Mind, I'm not promisin' anythin' — I haven't 
 changed my mind a bit yet ; but, if you like to 
 behave yourself, I might be here instead— that's 
 all." And Selina went pirouetting round the room 
 again, laughing and crying together. 
 
 "Good gracious, who is it? Whatever's the 
 matter?" It was Mrs. Shadd's querulous voice. 
 Descending the stairs, she nearly fell the last 
 three ; and this fact, Baversham considered, was 
 the greatest tribute of all to his coup and his 
 personality. " Shadd ! " she called out, one eye 
 on the mat bag : " Shadd, quick 1 " 
 
 Mr. Shadd dropped his butter -pats and rushed 
 in. For a while Baversham and he stood eye to 
 eye, as Baversham had intended ; and Selina 
 thought George had never looked more like a 
 born actor than in that minute. Then Mr. Shadd 
 wiped his hand on his trousers and held it out, 
 rather shamefacedly. " Glad to see you, my boy," 
 he faltered. " If I've been to blame " 
 
 ** You have," said George, pointedly. '* There's 
 no * if.' There's no gettin' away from it." 
 
 " But perhaps, as Selina thinks, it's all been a 
 mistake on both sides " 
 
 ** I dunno so much," said George ; although he 
 had no intention of ever supplying a definite clue 
 
LOW SOCIETY 313 
 
 as to what he knew, and just how he had come to 
 know it. ** Still, if you're willin' to admit down- 
 right that you thought more o' my money than of 
 me, as I happen to think you did " 
 
 ** Not really," protested Mr. Shadd, with huski- 
 ness. ** It wasn't that. I thought you had been 
 playing a trick on the girl — and so on us — so to 
 speak '* 
 
 ** What made you think it?" persisted the 
 other, narrowly. ** Come 1 What reason had any 
 one to think it ? ** 
 
 Mr. Shadd's mouth opened several times, but 
 closed each time. He could have answered in one 
 potent word — ** Casswade." But he was loyal — 
 maybe still in hopes of a dual rapprochement. 
 
 ** The fact is," said George, bluntly, ** you don't 
 know your own mind two days together, and you 
 think a sight too much of money. But all the 
 same, as I'm here — well, I'm here ; and that's all 
 I'll say at present." 
 
 He took the hand ; and Selina had quite a stage 
 thrill. Mr. Shadd sniffed, Mrs. Shadd wiped her 
 eyes appropriately with a corner of the curtain — 
 still keeping one on the bag ; all three watched as 
 George took off his overcoat deliberately, and 
 stooped . A pause, and then out flopped the turkey 
 on to the table with a thud. 
 
 ** There," he said. *- I didn't ought to ; but I 
 knew you hadn't got one — and wouldn't buy one 
 if you'd got the money to. How's it look? " 
 
 They walked round and round it, admiring with 
 bated breath, the shop and its coughing customers 
 quite forgotten. 
 
 ** English ! " said George. And, spurred anew, 
 
314 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 they turned it over and admired it from that point 
 of view. All agreed that it was a unique speci- 
 men, Mrs. Shadd remarking that she had always 
 thought Mr. Baversham a gentleman at heart, 
 but never one to such an extent as this. In fact, 
 Mr. Shadd added, he could eat it just as it was— 
 meaning the bird. He should never forget it, he 
 said — meaning the generosity. 
 
 *' Yes ; well, that's enough," said George. 
 " There's only one thing I didn't think of — and 
 that's the sausages. As I might drop in to dinner 
 myself — jest as a friend— I'll do the thing properly, 
 ril jest have, a drain o' somethin' with you, and 
 then Selina can go with me to get 'em, if she 
 likes. When we come back, let's hope the shop 
 '11 be shut." 
 
 Mr. Shadd wrung his hand and hurried out — 
 the next customer receiving quite astounding 
 weight in her cheese. Mrs. Shadd got out the 
 decanter, and drank everybody's health. Selina 
 put a sprig of mistletoe inside her dress, next to 
 her heart, and ran upstairs to prepare for the walk. 
 
 '* I do feel happy," she said, nipping George's 
 arm, as they stepped down Tamplin Street. *' You 
 wouldn't believe." 
 
 ** So you ought to," George replied. ** Con- 
 sider yourself lucky as well if anythin' ever comes 
 of it. Which way shall we go ? " 
 
 ** Any way — anywhere ! I don't care what 
 happens now ! " 
 
 " You be careful," he said. ** All we've come 
 out for is the sausages. But first of all — what's the 
 time? Not quite eight. Seems like a blessed day 
 and a half to me. Yes, we'll have a ha'porth on 
 
LOW SOCIETY 315 
 
 the tram first — as far as Hungerford's. I left my 
 'bacca pouch and matches there, when I called.*' 
 
 In a few minutes they had stepped from the car 
 and were pausing in the roadway abreast of 
 Number Nine. For quite a time they stood, simply 
 gazing up at the lit window of the front bedroom, 
 while George muttered something cryptical to 
 himself. Then — " That'll do," he said. " Come 
 on back." 
 
 *' Aren't we going to call ? " Selina asked in 
 amazement. ** Not just to speak — and get the 
 pouch? " 
 
 " No," he said. ** I only fancied a last look. 
 Never mind about the pouch — I've jest found it 
 in my pocket." 
 
 " Well," Selina had to titter, as they turned, 
 "if I live with you a hundred years, I shall never 
 know quite what to make of you." 
 
 " That," George replied, oracularly, " is be- 
 cause you're all heart and no mind — and p'r'aps 
 ought to be thankful for it. But I haven't asked 
 you yet to live with me for a minnit." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 The glamour of Christmas was gone beyond 
 recall. The more sober joy of the New Year's 
 dawning had come to fill the void. 
 
 Barking Town, that for a few days had worn the 
 depressing aspect of a partly-dismantled bazaar, 
 showed fresh signs of activity and optimism. The 
 shops put on a brave front to meet the exigencies 
 of another important eve ; and people who 
 collided with each other in the thickening brown 
 fog changed their mutual resentment into a season- 
 able wish. At least, so declared Miss Pugh, with 
 a picturesque effort at cheerfulness, as she 
 dropped the window curtain and turned to survey 
 her patient. She insisted upon calling him her 
 patient, and thought so little of the abilities of the 
 professional nurse engaged that she sent her out 
 to take the air on every possible occasion. She 
 had, indeed, only consented to abandon the role 
 herself when it was pointed out that enthusiasm in 
 itself, however valuable, was not sufficient, and 
 that Mr. Casswade might pay the penalty. 
 
 He gave a dull groan. His conversation was 
 mainly confined to such sounds now. In fact, it 
 could hardly be said as yet that he had renewed 
 active touch with the world at all, or evinced any 
 desire to do so. The first few days of comatose 
 indifference had been as days filched from his life. 
 Now, with his immovable broken limb beginning 
 to set under its surgical ** cradle," and the figures 
 
LOW SOCIETY 317 
 
 about him taking more human shape, he lay from 
 hour to hour with' a hollow-eyed resignation that 
 puzzled even his doctors, while Miss Pugh declared 
 him to be a Stoic and a Spartan in one. The 
 plain truth was that he was in the grip of a vast, 
 sick suspense and incredulity which dominated 
 all else. Feeling like a prisoner being fattened 
 up by cannibals, he could not understand why the 
 hour and method of his consumption were never 
 even hinted at, and dared not make enquiry. 
 
 Miss Pugh sat down near the bedside, with 
 folded hands, and watched him. He had certainly 
 lost a surprising amount of flesh, and secretly she 
 was hoping that he would never regain it. 
 
 " But the idea of you saying you wished to die, 
 and would die," she said, feelingly, once again. 
 And to-night he broke out with a coherent 
 response. 
 
 "Did I?" 
 
 •* Did you? Not once, but a dozen times. It 
 upset me, I can tell you — at least, I'm not going 
 to tell you." And she drew out her handkerchief. 
 
 There was a pause. Then — "Where's she?'* 
 he asked, weakly. 
 
 ** Gone out for a run." Miss Pugh got up. 
 ** Do you want her? — Would you prefer her? If 
 so " 
 
 "No," he muttered. "Keep her out. If I — 
 if I've been say in' anythin', without knowin' it, 
 it's your duty to tell me." 
 
 She sat down, her head drooped against one 
 raised finger. 
 
 " I don't know that it is," she reflected, softly. 
 "I'm afraid it would never do." 
 
3i8 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 " Why not? " he demanded. He was certainly 
 taking a turn for the better. 
 
 *' Well, because — because in delirium the lips 
 generally betray what the mind would rather con- 
 ceal, don't they? " 
 
 " Dunno what you mean," he rattled, after a 
 moment's hard thought. " I wasn't delirious one 
 minnit, that I know of." 
 
 '* Oh I then that makes it quite impossible for 
 me to repeat all you've said." And she rose as in 
 trepidation to stir the fire. 
 
 Presently his voice sounded again, thickly, as 
 if forced out. "What's been happenin' ? Tell 
 me that. Out — outside, I mean." 
 
 " Nothing at all." She could answer that with 
 decision, since she cared not a rap what had hap- 
 pened beyond this room. " The days have just 
 come and gone as usual. Rest your mind, if you 
 can't your body." 
 
 In stupefaction he stared at her. It was not by 
 any means fully clear to him yet whether he was 
 really alive. On the other hand, it began to 
 dawn upon him that just possibly he had never 
 gone near the new block at all that night, but had 
 been ill and dreamed it . The bare thought made 
 him try to struggle up. 
 
 " Lie still," said the shocked Miss Pugh, bend- 
 ing over him instantly. " How dare you? Quite 
 naughty of you ! " She tapped his arm — then 
 his cheek. " You are not to move for another 
 week, at least, and I am responsible." 
 
 "Who's downstairs?" he ventured hollowly 
 again, after more tense thought. 
 
 " Nobody — only the charwoman. There's no 
 
LOW SOCIETY 319 
 
 waste or mismanagement going on — if that's what 
 you're brooding upon. I think you can trust me 
 that far." 
 
 His amazement was such that he could hardly 
 draw breath. Vaguely he had been picturing a 
 posse of policemen down there, discreetly and 
 callously awaiting his convalescence. 
 
 "And nobody been?" he pursued, sunkenly. 
 " Nobody been about — about bis'ness or any- 
 thin' ? " 
 
 '* Let's see, now." She started to tick off her 
 fingers, his heart giving a dull bound each time. 
 Mercifully the firelight left his face in shadow. 
 " Yes, your foreman. Josh, has called three times. 
 I was to tell you, he said, that he had given four 
 of the men a week's notice and paid them off. 
 He has stopped all work on the new block, 
 and " 
 
 " My Gawd ! " gasped Mr. Casswade, as with 
 a sudden pain. He pushed her back, as she 
 craned over him. ** I mean — go on 1 Is that all 
 he said?" 
 
 ** That's all — except that his wife had sent you 
 a slice of her pudding, if you would accept it. It's 
 downstairs." 
 
 ** I'll have it now," breathed Mr. Casswade, 
 almost lightheaded in his incredulity. 
 
 ** I'm sure you won't," she said, solemnly — it 
 had sounded so like a grim jest of his. " But 
 who else do you think has called — last Tuesday 
 evening? " 
 
 ** I dunno," he whispered, the cold sweat all 
 ready to break out on him. 
 
 " Why, that Mr. Baversham and his young 
 
320 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 woman. Said he was most sorry to hear of your 
 fall, and would I make a point of telling you so? 
 And he looked as if he meant it. Oh, I was almost 
 forgetting, too — that bunch of white flowers came 
 from Mrs. Hungerford. I thought it very nice of 
 her — considering . ' ' 
 
 What Mr. Casswade thought, was not likely to 
 be known. Three-cornered lumps appeared to 
 be massing in his bronchial passages. " Go on ! " 
 he could just get past them. 
 
 ** And, on Wednesday, that Mr. Shadd's shop- 
 boy rang with some home-made cake and two 
 dozen eggs and his love. At least, the boy said 
 it was home-made ; and the eggs were in ' new 
 laid * boxes ; but I had my own idea, and used 
 them for milk -pudding. And the curate from St. 
 Mark's just knocked to enquire, and said it was 
 God's will we should be chastened in some way, 
 if there was any reason for it — and sometimes 
 when there wasn't. And that's all. You know 
 everything." 
 
 The red ashes sank in the grate ;*the clang of 
 the electric car bells could be heard at intervals, 
 and the sound of passing voices muffled by fog. 
 Miss Pugh at last went to creep from her chair. 
 She believed that her patient had dropped into 
 sleep. His sudden rattle quite startled her. 
 
 " Sit still I Come here ! . . . Did you say 
 Josh had been here? " 
 
 " Why, I've just been telling you," she said, 
 with a tremor, stooping. There seemed something 
 new in his manner — almost suggesting confidence. 
 " Three times 1 He has given four of the 
 men " 
 
LOW SOCIETY 321 
 
 " No— no I Didn't he sit and talk a bit? Did 
 he say anythin' about — about who was lookin* 
 after the houses? " 
 
 ** No," she said, racking her memory for him. 
 '* We were in the kitchen — he wouldn't come up, 
 or enter the drawing-room. All he said was, had 
 you heard that Peter Loney " 
 
 *' Loney I " He almost shrieked it ; and Miss 
 Pugh shrieked in turn. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Casswade, what is it? — what have I 
 done ? " 
 
 '* Nothin' — nothin' ! " He had got a grip of 
 her wrists, and was pulling her down, his breath 
 whistling. *' Keep quiet. Had a pain — went to 
 move. Hold my hands. What — what about 
 Loney?" 
 
 " Only — only that he*s gone for good. He had 
 had a shock of some sort, they thought. He was 
 found wandering miles away late on Christmas 
 Eve — Epping, I fancy Josh said — and they put him 
 into the infirmary. He's to be kept there. His 
 mother came to tell Josh, and seemed very thankful 
 after the long strain. That's all." 
 
 If she had known ! — if she could have seen the 
 nameless load slipping slowly off Mr. Casswade's 
 mind, as he lay so still I All Miss Pugh knew 
 was, that his clutch upon her hands showed what a 
 reserve of vitality he must have possessed. 
 
 ** ril light the gas," she said, faintly, at 
 length. 
 
 " No, don't want it," he breathed. " What— 
 what was it you said, then? — about my sayin' 
 things you couldn't repeat? " 
 
 *' How could I ? " Miss Pugh faltered, now really 
 L.S. Y 
 
322 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 frightened — and yet not unpleasantly so. ** They 
 all heard it — the doctors, and the woman next 
 door. I wouldn't — for worlds — speak of it, what- 
 ever it cost me at the time. . . . You were 
 delirious, that first night ; you must have 
 been. You said terrible things ; and — and you 
 shouted out * Mrs. Casswade I ' — and you pointed 
 at me:' 
 
 ** I did? " he repeated, in awe, after the pause. 
 ** Are you tellin* the truth ? Did I points " 
 
 ** Well, you — you seemed to 1 " 
 
 She got her hands free, and slipped down to her 
 knees. There was more silence, broken only by 
 the sinking of the ashes and the muffled sounds 
 from without ; and then his big fingers, now 
 shrunken, slid clumsily out and touched her head. 
 One brief flash of pure romance lit up Miss Pugh's 
 grey horizon like a beautiful lightning - streak, 
 never to be forgotten. 
 
 *' That's done it. That'll stop all the talk," he 
 muttered. ** If I said it, I'll stick to it. Tell 
 that nurse she can go, soon as you like." 
 
 Away in the house at Mandalay Gardens, about 
 that same hour, Hungerford sat propped up in the 
 rear bijou parlour. He was supposed to be read- 
 ing the newspaper, but his eyes turned expectantly 
 every now and then towards the door. Every now 
 and then Ella, who could be heard singing softly 
 to herself as she busied about the kitchen, glanced 
 in to smile, and to let him know that her thoughts 
 moved level with his own. She wore the same 
 big, enveloping apron, and looked to be the 
 
LOW SOCIETY 323 
 
 matron of at least a four-storeyed Home of 
 Rest. 
 
 *' Here they are," came Hungerford*s voice pre- 
 sently, with an attempt at perfect composure. His 
 ears had detected the sounds without before the 
 knock came. 
 
 *' Yes, here they are, Boy 1 " called back Ella, 
 with no such attempt. ** Don't you move I " 
 
 She ran. The street door was open ; there was 
 as much wiping of shoes and animated talk as if 
 two fur -coated explorers had arrived from the 
 North Pole. Hungerford sat, a white hand over 
 his eyes, and waited. Then a tripping up the 
 stairs died away. The rear -parlour door opened, 
 and Baversham stepped in. He had donned a new, 
 striking suit of clothes for the occasion, and tried 
 to look as if quite unaware of it. 
 
 ** Here's your chair," Hungerford whispered. 
 '* Come along 1 " 
 
 Baversham gave the thin fingers a full-blooded 
 grip, hitched up his trousers, and sat down. Being 
 here by special invitation, it was the correct thing 
 to look around the room as though he had never 
 seen it before. 
 
 ** Shan't ask how you feel," he said, with a 
 cough. ** You must be sick o' that." 
 
 " No, wait and see," the other replied, his dark 
 eyes beaming. '* Smoke away ; fill the room with 
 it to-night." 
 
 "Your Chris'mus, ain't it?" Baversham pro- 
 duced a cigar, and crackled it critically against 
 his ear. " And mine," he was moved to add, 
 with some emphasis. ** She's all right, but she's 
 no hand at cookin' — Selina's mother. If I hadn't 
 
324 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 been there, the turkey 'ud ha* been cinder outside 
 and raw inside. And then, again, there was such 
 a lot to talk over." 
 
 ** I expect so," Hungerford said, watching him. 
 "But all ended well?" 
 
 *' Middlin' — middlin'," he admitted, striking his 
 match. *' Once I got a bit worked up, and took 
 the ring off Selina's finger — but it was only jest 
 to make 'em see I meant it. They won't lay any 
 more traps to find out whether Tm worth five 
 pounds or five hundred, at all events." 
 
 Hungerford looked into the fire, and did not 
 answer. And this was just the moment and the 
 attitude for which Baversham had waited. He 
 looked round at the door, listened, drew out a 
 crumpled little brown book, and coughed. He was 
 on the threshold of sharing his grand secret with 
 another. He had mentally rehearsed the revelation 
 all that past week. 
 
 " Well, now," he said, " Selina doesn't know, 
 and won't know till I feel it safe to tell her. If 
 ever anyone asks me, or tries to find out, they're 
 doomed. I'd bite my tongue off before I'd tell 
 'em. . . . Well, now, you mightn't think it, 
 but I've been a savin' chap all along. And in 
 seven years I've saved jest fifty pounds." 
 
 " Fifty 1 " Hungerford repeated, trying to keep 
 the shake out of his voice. '* Fifty I " 
 
 " But wait a minnit, and don't upset yourself. 
 What's that figure look like to you ? *' He pointed 
 to a column in the little book. 
 
 ** Two hundred — two hundred pounds,'- read out 
 Hungerford. 
 
 ** Jest so. I drew out thirty a fortnight ago — 
 
LOW SOCIETY 325 
 
 that makes it one -seventy. And now look at this 
 page. What*s that? " 
 
 ** * Total stock held by depositor — five hundred 
 pounds.' ** 
 
 With a business-like air of indifference, Baver- 
 sham repocketed the book, and sat back, puffing 
 at his cigar. 
 
 " My good old aunt left me six hundred, odd,*- 
 he announced, briefly. " I put up a stone to her 
 that cost me fifteen. With the interest, and the 
 bit I've saved, the sum-total left is what you see. 
 And I can look the whole world in the face to- 
 night." 
 
 Hungerford sat very still. He could not trust 
 himself to speak. 
 
 " And now that's all done with," Baversham 
 went on, quickly. *' And why I mentioned it, is 
 this. You, as a City man, may know of someone 
 who could look me in the face. There's a certain 
 combination wanted in a successful bis'ness — a 
 man, and a gentleman. When I start mine, it's 
 got to be a success, or I'll know the reason why. 
 Mind you, it's been all mapped out in my head for 
 years. I shall want a partner, for the clerical 
 side — and one I can trust, you bet — while I run 
 the workin' side. Hush — here they are I . . . 
 Come on, Mrs. Hungerford, this is your place ! " 
 
 ** No, no I " she protested, tears and smiles 
 dancing together in her eyes. But George had a 
 certain line of action to-night, and he was not 
 going to deviate from it. 
 
 Solemnly he served out refreshments — ** none 
 o' your * fine, fruity, fam'ly ' port," he muttered, 
 as he had muttered on that other memorable eve ; 
 
3i26 LOW SOCIETY 
 
 and they drank with a subdued appreciation. ** We 
 won't play whist," he said, '* as Selina never knows 
 what's trumps till the ' hand's ' played. We won't 
 sing, in case we might break down. We 
 won't do anythin' that they generally do at 
 parties. We'll jest sit and talk till the bells 
 start to ring. And then I've got a little toast to 
 propose." 
 
 And they did. Outside, the brown fog thick- 
 ened ; but they knew nothing of it. A deep thinker 
 has said that his ideal of human happiness is *' four 
 feet upon a fender." Baversham's contention 
 would have been that, as to-night the fender sup- 
 ported eight, the happiness must logically be 
 doubled. At times, incidentally, Baversham was 
 observed to feel furtively in his new waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 It had turned half -past eleven. Baversham de- 
 clared that he could hear bells, although the others 
 were doubtful ; and cleared his throat for action. 
 And then, for the first time, he caught sight of an 
 odd little picture which Ella had slipped on to the 
 mantelshelf unobserved. It was merely a pictorial 
 envelope under glass — a scroll of leaves enclos- 
 ing the representation of two massive hands 
 clasped, and, underneath, four original lines of 
 verse. 
 
 ** We framed it," Hungerford said, *- because we 
 wish to keep it in mind all our lives." 
 
 Baversham drew a breath and stood up, little 
 dabs of colour in his freckly face. 
 
 ** Then," he said, drawing something from his 
 waistcoat pocket, " you'd better make it a pair. 
 For I've done another little one for the occasion ; 
 
LOW SOCIETY 327 
 
 and I reckon I've improved by practice. This 
 is it : 
 
 " ' Here's a health to our dear hostess, the angel of the road, 
 And peace to all our enemies, tho' they at times do goad ; 
 But most I ask, this New Year's Eve, prosperity may flow 
 On the brand-new firm of Hungerford, Baversham and Co ! "' 
 
 " Who's * Co.*? " Selina trembled, in the hush 
 that followed. 
 
 ** * Co.',** he said, as he left a light kiss on her 
 cheek, ** is you, if you behave yourself." 
 
 The End. 
 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRtDGE. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 NOV 30 19'^ 
 
 OCT 14 19,5 
 
 o^n 
 
 ,^0V 361920 
 APR '7 1931 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CAIvIFORNIA IvIBRARY