The girl greeted these early dismissals with considerable relief.
Dinner was to her a nightly ordeal whose atmosphere swept appetite
sky-high--took the savour from meats, dried the throat.



II.

Descending to the dining-room upon this evening, her normal shrinking
from the meal was considerably augmented. On the previous night--the
first upon which Mr. Bob Chater's legs had partnered hers beneath the
table--his eyes (like some bold gallant popping out on modesty
whenever it dared peep from the doorway) had captured her glance each
time she ventured look up from her plate. The episode of the nursery
was equivalent to having slapped the gallant's face, and the re-
encounter was proportionately uncomfortable.

Taking her place she was by sheer nervousness impelled to meet his
gaze--so heavily freighted it was as to raise a sudden flush to her
cheek. Her eyes fled round to Mrs. Chater, received a look that
questioned the blush, drove it duskier; through an uncomfortable half-
hour she kept her face towards her plate.

It was illuminative of the relations between husband and wife that
Mrs. Chater carved; her husband dealt the sweets. The carving knife is
the domestic sceptre of authority: when it is wielded by the woman,
the man, you will find, is consort rather than king.