a sort, there was no doubt of that; it was possible to imagine one would not grow tired of her undiluted company as one would of the other sort of woman.  Only of course a man did not have the undiluted company of his wife—­perhaps if he were a small shop-keeper or an itinerant organ-grinder—­if night and day they lived together and worked together and looked out on the world together—­if it was the simple life of which she dreamed—­

Rawson-Clew picked up his pen and began to write; it was not a case of whether he would or would not, liked or disliked; he had simply to make a girl he had compromised the only restitution in his power.

In the meantime Julia had set out for the market-place as the idlers had said.  But her business there did not take long and she was home again, as she intended, before Mevrouw got back from the Snieders.  But she had not been in much more than five minutes before the old lady, supported by Vrouw Snieder and Denah, arrived.  Mijnheer came home not long after, and, hearing news of the return of the truant, went to the house to join the others.

Julia waited to receive the attack in the dim sitting-room.  She knew as well as Rawson-Clew, or better, that she had not a ghost of a chance of clearing herself; dismissal was inevitable; that was why she went to the market-place.  She had not largely assisted her family in living by their wits without having those faculties in exceeding good working order; she had already seen and seized the only thing open to her when the end should come.  But the fact that she knew how it would end did not prevent her from giving battle; the knowledge only made her change her tactics, and, as there was no use in defending her position (and companion) she was able to concentrate her forces in harassing the enemy.

In these circumstances it is not wonderful that Denah did not derive the satisfaction she expected from the affair.  Julia, unrepentant and reckless because of her known fate, unhampered by Rawson-Clew’s presence, and flatly declining to give any particulars about him, would have been an awkward antagonist for one cleverer than the Dutch girl.  Poor Denah lost her temper, and lost her head, and lost control of her tongue and her tears.  Julia did not lose anything, but again and again winged shafts that went unerringly home.  She was genuinely sorry to have upset and disappointed Mevrouw, but for Denah she did not care in the least, and the old lady soon contrived to soften some of the regret, for she was far too angry and shocked at the impropriety to have any gentler feelings of sorrow or to believe what she was told.  Vrouw Snieder acted principally as chorus of horror; she was shocked and angry too, on Mevrouw’s account and on her own and her daughter’s; she seemed to think they had all been outraged together.