fundamentally wrong in the social fabric, and he had long had a
preoccupation to the effect that it was his business, his, to take a
share in finding out what was wrong and in discovering and applying a
cure. This preoccupation had worried him, scarcely perceptibly, like
the delicate oncoming of neuralgia. There must be something wrong when
a member of one class would behave to a member of another class as
Mrs. Braiding behaved to him--without protest from him.

"Mrs. Braiding!" he called out.

"Yes, sir." She almost ran back into the drawing-room.

"When shall you be seeing your husband?" At least he would remind her
that she had a husband.

"I haven't an idea, sir."

"Well, when you do, tell him that I want to speak to him; and you can
tell him I shall pay you half his wages in addition to your own."

Her gratitude filled him with secret fury.

He said to himself:

"Futile--these grand gestures about wages."




Chapter 8