'I haven't been doing anything, Ma.'

Leonora feared for the strict veracity of her youngest, but she said
nothing, and Milly retired full of annoyance against the inconceivable
caprices of parents.

At twenty minutes to seven John Stanway entered his large and handsome
dining-room, having been driven home by David Dain, whose residence was
close by. Three languorous women and the erect and motionless
parlourmaid behind the door were waiting for him. He went straight to
his carver's chair, and instantly the women were alert, galvanised into
vigilant life. Leonora, opposite to her husband, began to pour out the
tea; the impassive parlourmaid stood consummately ready to hand the
cups; Ethel and Millicent took their seats along one side of the table,
with an air of nonchalance which was far from sincere; a chair on the
other side remained empty.

'Turn the gas on, Bessie,' said John. Daylight had scarcely begun to
fail; but nevertheless the man's tone announced a grievance, that, with
half-a-dozen women in the house, he the exhausted breadwinner should
have been obliged to attend to such a trifle. Bessie sprang to pull the
chain of the Welsbach tap, and the white and silver of the tea-table
glittered under the yellow light. Every woman looked furtively at John's
morose countenance.

Neither dark nor fair, he was a tall man, verging towards obesity, and
the fulness of his figure did not suit his thin, rather handsome face.
His age was forty-eight. There was a small bald spot on the crown of his
head. The clipped brown beard seemed thick and plenteous, but this
effect was given by the coarseness of the hairs, not by their number;