450 ANGEL PAVEMENT

"Look here, Edie," he began desperately, "don't be
silly."

Tin not silly. I'm going to bed now." And off she
went.

He was in for it now, days of it, perhaps weeks of it;
and in order to get out of it, not only would he have to
apologise at great length, but he would probably have to
buy something as well, in short to spend more money.
Yet the root of the whole trouble was that too much
money was being spent already. He wished he had never
set eyes on Sorley's miserable bill. He wished he had
gone out and paid it without a word. He wished—"Oh
damn and blast!" he cried, and in his sudden spasm of
fury, he screwed up his face so hard and shook his head
so violently that his eyeglasses fell off and he spent
several minutes groping about the black wool rug before
he could find them. Oh—a miserable evening!

BETWEEN Thursday evening, when hostilities began,
and Saturday morning, Mr. Smeeth had tried unsuccess-
fully once or twice to make his peace and to replace this
strange polite woman by his real wife. On Saturday
morning, he determined to do no more; she could have
her sulk, if she wanted it; he would simply make the
best of his position as a sort of super-lodger. He trotted
down Chaucer Road, on his way to the tram, harden-
ing his heart. The morning, which already had a com-
panionable Saturday look about it, smiled upon him, if
only faintly. For a day in late January, it was begin-
ning well; no fog, snow or rain; but a slight sparkle and