aspects, but Mrs. Peckover gave it clearly to be understood that, from her point of view, “the game was spoilt.” As long as Joseph continued living under her roof she could in a measure direct the course of events; Clem had chosen to abet him in his desire for removal, and if ill came of it she had only herself to blame.
“I can look out for myself,” said Clem.
“Can you? I’m glad to hear it.”
And Mrs. Peckover sniffed the air, scornfully. The affectionate pair dined together, each imbibing a pint and a half of “mild and bitter,” and Clem returned to Hanover Street. From Joseph she could derive no information as to the state of the patient.
“If you will stay here, where you can do no good,” he said, “sit down and keep quiet.”
“Certainly I shall stay,” said his wife, “because I know you want to get rid of me.”
Joseph left her in the sitting-room, and went upstairs again to keep his daughter company. Jane would not leave the bedside. To enter the room, after an interval elsewhere, wrung her feelings too painfully; better to keep her eyes fixed on the unmoving form, to overcome the dread by facing it.
