Gideon was walking up and down the room in his restless way, playing with the things on the tables.  He stopped suddenly, and looked at Jane.

‘Jane,’ he said, ’we won’t, you and I, have any more secrets and concealments between us.  They’re rotten things.  Next time it occurs to you that I’ve committed a crime, ask me if it is so.  And I’ll do the same to you, at whatever risk of being offensive.  We’ll begin now by telling each other what we feel....  You know I love you, my dear.’

Oh, yes, Jane knew that.  She said, ‘I suppose I do, Arthur.’

He said, ‘Then what about it?  Do you ...’ and she said, ’Rather, of course I do.’

Then they kissed each other, and settled to get married next May or June.  The baby was coming in January.

‘You’ll have to put up with baby, you know, Arthur,’ Jane said.

’Of course, poor little kid.  I rather like them.  It’s rough luck on it not having a father of its own.  I’ll try to be decent to it.’

That would be queer, thought Jane, Arthur being decent to Oliver’s kid; a boy, perhaps, with Oliver’s face and Oliver’s mind.  Poor little kid:  but Jane would love it, and Arthur would be decent to it, and its grandparents would spoil it; it would be their favourite, if any more came.  They wouldn’t like the others, because they would be Gideon’s.  They might look like little Yids.  Perhaps there wouldn’t be any others.  Jane wasn’t keen.  They were all right when they were there—­jolly little comics, all slippy in their baths, like eels—­but they were an unspeakable nuisance while on the way.  A rotten system.

4

All next day Jane felt like stopping people in the streets and shouting at them, ’Arthur didn’t do it.  Nor did I. It was only that silly ass, Clare, or else it was an accident.’  For even now Jane wasn’t sure which she thought.

But the only person to whom she really said it was Katherine.  One told Katherine things, because she was as deep and as quiet as the grave.  Also, if Jane hadn’t told her what Clare had said, she would have gone on thinking it was Jane, and Jane didn’t like that.  Jane did not care to give Katherine more reasons for making her feel cheap than necessary.  She would always think Jane cheap, anyhow, because Jane only cared about having a good time, and Katherine thought one should care chiefly about one’s job.  Jane supposed she was cheap, but didn’t much care.  She felt she would rather be herself.  She had a better time, and would have a better time still before she had done; better than Johnny, with the rubbishy books he was writing and making his firm bring out for him and feeling so pleased with.  Jane knew she could write better stuff than Johnny could, any day.  And her books would be in addition to Gideon, and babies, and other amusing things.

Jane told Katherine Clare’s story.  Katherine said, ’H’m.  Perhaps.  I wonder.  It’s as likely as not all bumkum that she pushed him.  She was probably talking to him when he fell, and got worked up about it later.  The Potter press and Leila Yorke touch.  However, you never know.  Quite a light push might do it.  Those stairs of yours are awful.  I really advise you to be careful, Jane.’