She came up to me, as if to draw down the blinds and close the shutters.

"Leave them," I said; "I will do it myself by-and-by."

"He's not coming home to-night," said a woman's voice behind me, in a
scoffing tone.

I could see her too without turning round. A handsome woman, with bold
black eyes, and a rouged face, which showed coarsely in the ugly
looking-glass. She was extravagantly dressed, and wore a profusion of
ornaments--tawdry ones, mostly, but one or two I recognized as my own.
She was not many years older than myself. I took no notice whatever of
her, or her words, or her presence; but continued to gaze out steadily
at the lamp-lit streets and stormy sky. Her voice grew hoarse with
passion, and I knew well how her face would burn and flush under the
rouge.

"It will be no better for you when he is at home," she said, fiercely.
"He hates you; he swears so a hundred times a day, and he is determined
to break your proud spirit for you. We shall force you to knock under
sooner or later; and I warn you it will be best for you to be sooner
rather than later. What friends have you got anywhere to take your side?
If you'd made friends with me, my fine lady, you'd have found it good
for yourself; but you've chosen to make me your enemy, and I'll make him
your enemy. You know, as well as I do, he can't hear the sight of your
long, puling face."

Still I did not answer by word or sign. I set my teeth together, and
gave no indication that I had heard one of her taunting speeches. My
silence only served to fan her fury.