'Oh, I'll look after that. I only wish they'd refuse me all round;
the more of that kind of thing the better for us. I'm not afraid but
I can earn my living.'

Through all this Emma Vine had sat with her thoughtful eyes
constantly turned on Richard. It was plain how pride struggled with
anxiety in her mind. When Richard had kept silence for a moment, she
ventured to speak, having tried in vain to meet his look.

'Jane's ill again, Richard,' she said.

Mutimer had to summon his thoughts from a great distance; his
endeavour to look sympathetic was not very successful.

'Not the fever again?'

'Yes, it is,' she replied sadly.

'Going to work in the wet, I suppose?'

He shrugged his shoulders; in his present mood the fact was not so
much personally interesting to him as in the light of another case
against capitalism. Emma's sister had to go a long way to her daily
employment, and could not afford to ride; the fifth attack of
rheumatic fever was the price she paid for being permitted to earn
ten shillings a week.

Daniel returned with both jugs foaming, his face on a broad grin of
anticipation. There was a general move to the table. Richard began
to carve roast beef like a freeman, not by any means like the serf