me anything about the Upper Street business; _I_ know all about
_that_!'

'Oh, do you? From Clara herself?'

'Yes. Don't talk to me about her! There! I'm sick an tired of her--
an' so are you, I should think, if you've any sense left. Her an' me
can't get along, an' that's the truth. Why, when I met her on Sunday
afternoon, she was that patronisin' you'd have thought she'd got a
place in Windsor Castle. Would she come an' have a cup of tea? Oh
dear, no! Hadn't time! The Princess of Wales, I suppose, was waitin'
round the corner!'

Having so relieved her mind, Mrs. Byass laughed with a genuine
gaiety which proved how little malice there was in her satire.
Sidney could not refuse a smile, but it was a gloomy one.

'I'm not sure you've done all you might have to keep her friends
with you,' he said seriously, but with a good-natured look.

'There you go!' exclaimed Mrs. Byass, throwing back her head. 'Of
course everybody must be in fault sooner than _her_! She's an angel
is Miss Hewett! Poor dear! to think how shameful she's been used!
Now I do wonder how you've the face to say such things, Mr.
Kirkwood! Why, there's nobody else livin' would have been as patient
with her as I always was. I'm not bad-tempered, I will say that for
myself, an' I've put up with all sorts of things (me, a married
woman), when anyone else would have boxed her ears an, told her she
was a conceited minx. I used to be fond of Clara; you know I did.
But she's got beyond all bearin'; and if you wasn't just as foolish