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Updated: May 4, 2025
They were conscious merely of a desire to do their duty in the shop and to the shop; probably it had not even occurred to them that this desire, which each stimulated in the breast of the other, had assumed the dimensions of a passion. It was ageing Mr. Povey, and it had made of Constance a young lady tremendously industrious and preoccupied. Mr.
Having had no relatives, except his cousin the confectioner, for many years, he had dreamt of at last establishing a family Christmas under his own roof, and the dream was dear to him. Mrs. Baines said nothing. "We couldn't possibly leave the shop," said Mr. Povey. "Nonsense!" Mrs. Baines retorted, putting her lips together. "Christmas Day is on a Monday."
"Give it your mother," said Mr. Povey. The boy stepped forward awkwardly, and Constance, weeping, took the coin. "Please look at it, mother," said Mr. Povey. "And tell me if there's a cross marked on it." Constance's tears blurred the coin. She had to wipe her eyes. "Yes," she whispered faintly. "There's something on it." "I thought so," said Mr. Povey. "Where did you steal it from?" he demanded.
Later, she heard movements on the house-stairs, and the familiar whining creak of the door at the foot thereof. She skipped lightly to the door of the bedroom. "Good-night, Mr. Povey. I hope you'll be able to sleep." Constance's voice! "It will probably come on again." Mr. Povey's voice, pessimistic! Then the shutting of doors. It was almost dark.
Povey came in to supper, laden with ledgers and similar works which Constance had never even pretended to understand. It was a sign from him that the honeymoon was over. He was proprietor now, and his ardour for ledgers most justifiable. Still, there was the question of her servant. "Never!" he exclaimed, when she told him all about the end of the world.
Povey by magnetic force out of the wakes into the house, and her muscles were contracted in this strange effort. She felt that it was impossible to continue living if the secret of the bedroom remained unknown one instant longer, so intense was her torture, and yet that the torture which could not be borne must be borne. Not a sound in the house! Not a sound from the shop!
They have no decency, no self-respect. "Really?" replied Mr. Povey, with loftiness, as who should say: "What an extraordinary thing that a reasonable creature can have such fancies! Now to me this room is exactly like any other room." And he added aloud, glancing away from the glass, where he was unfastening his necktie: "It's not a bad room at all." This, with the judicial air of an auctioneer.
Naturally the Stipendiary was bound to show that before the law all men are equal the Town Councillor and the common tippler; he succeeded. The policeman gave his evidence, and the Inspector swore to what Daniel Povey had said when charged. The hearing proceeded so smoothly and quickly that it seemed naught but an empty rite, with Daniel as a lay figure in it.
Maggie's rather silly, obsequious smile concealed but for a moment the ineffable tragedy that had lain in wait for unarmed Constance. "If you please, Mrs. Povey," said Maggie, as she crushed cups together on the tin tray with her great, red hands, which always looked like something out of a butcher's shop; then a pause, "Will you please accept of this?"
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