"Let's see it," he said.
After a while, fumbling under the blanket, she brought out the piece of money. He felt she was independent of him. Brooding rather bitterly, he told himself she'd forsake him. His anger gave him courage to ask:
"Shall you go in service in your maiden name?"
"No."
He was bitterly wrathful with her—full of resentment.
"I bet I s'll niver see you again," he said, with a short, hard laugh. She put her arms round him, pressed him to her bosom, while the tears rose to her eyes. He was reassured, but not satisfied.
"Shall you write to me to-night?"
"Yes, I will."
"And can I write to you—who shall I write to?"
"Mrs Bredon."
"'Bredon'!" he repeated bitterly.
He was exceedingly uneasy.
The dawn had grown quite wan. He saw the hedges drooping wet down the grey mis
