‘Right-o!’ said Elizabeth, as I hurried out of the kitchen.

On thinking the whole matter over I must admit I am greatly perturbed.  I am not like those women who glory in winning a man’s love for the mere gratification of their vanity.  I know myself how much one can suffer from unrequited affection, and I am steadily determined to cure Mr. Rawlings of his love-madness by every means in my power.

CHAPTER X

The study door burst open and one end of Elizabeth—­the articulate end—­was jerked into view.

’Wot will you ’ave for lunch, ‘m?’ she demanded breathlessly.  ’Lamb or ‘am?’

Abruptly recalled from the realms of fiction writing I looked up a little dazed.  ’Lamb or ‘am,’ I repeated dully, ’lamorram?  Er—­ram, I think, please, Elizabeth.’

Having thus disposed of my domestic obligations for the day, I returned to my writing.  I was annoyed therefore to see the other end of Elizabeth travel round the doorway and sidle into the room.  Her pretext for entering—­that of dusting the roll-top desk with her apron—­was a little thin, for she has not the slightest objection to dust.  I rather think it cheers her up to see it about the place.  Obviously she had come in to make conversation.  I laid down my pen with a sigh.

‘I yeerd from my young man this morning,’ she began.  A chill foreboding swept over me. (I will explain why in a minute.)

‘Do you mean the boiler one?’ I asked.

[Illustration:  ‘Do you mean the boiler one?’ I asked.]

‘’Im wot belongs to the Amalgamated Serciety of Boilermakers,’ she corrected with dignity.  ’Well, they’ve moved ’is ’eadquarters from London to Manchester.’

There was a tense silence, broken only by Elizabeth’s hard breathing on a brass paper-weight ere she polished it with her sleeve.

’If ‘e goes to Manchester, there I goes,’ she went on; ’I suppose I’d quite easy get a situation there?’

‘Quite easy,’ I acquiesced in a hollow voice.

She went out leaving me chill and dejected.  Not that I thought for a moment that I was in imminent danger of losing her.  I knew full well that this was but a ruse on the part of the young man to disembarrass himself of Elizabeth, and, if he had involved the entire Amalgamated Society of Boilermakers in the plot, that only proved how desperate he was.

I have very earnest reasons for wishing that Elizabeth could have a ‘settled’ young man.  You see, as I have previously explained, she never retains the same one for many weeks at a time.  It isn’t her fault, poor girl.  She would be as true as steel if she had a chance; she would cling to any one of them through thick and thin, following him to the ends of the earth if necessary.

It is they who are fickle, and the excuses they make to break away from her are both varied and ingenious.  During the War, of course, they always had the pretext of being ordered to the Front at a moment’s notice, and were not, it appears, allowed to write home on account of the Censor.  Elizabeth used to blame Lloyd George for these defects of organization.  Even to this day she is extremely bitter against the Government.