She rose
abruptly.
"I mustn't spoil your one quiet evening. How do the proofs go on?"
"Would you care to take a batch of them?" asked Quarrier. "These are
revises--you might be able to make a useful suggestion."
She hesitated, but at length held out her band.
"You have rather a long walk," said Lilian. "I hope it's fine."
"No; it drizzles."
"Oh, how kind of you to take so much trouble on our account!"
Mrs. Wade went out into the darkness. It was as disagreeable a night
as the time of year could produce; black overhead, slimy under foot,
with a cold wind to dash the colder rain in one's face. The walk
home took more than half an hour, and she entered her cottage much
fatigued. Without speaking to the girl who admitted her, she went
upstairs to take off her out-of-door things; on coming down to the
sitting-room, she found her lamp lit, her fire burning, and supper
on the table--a glass of milk and some slices of bread and butter.
Her friends would have felt astonishment and compassion had they
learned how plain and slight was the fare that supported her; only
by reducing her household expenditure to the strict minimum could
she afford to dress in the manner of a lady, supply herself with a
few papers and books, and keep up the appearances without which it
is difficult to enjoy any society at all.
To-night she ate and drank with a bitter sense of her poverty and
loneliness.
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