Thyrza went downstairs, and the two gossiped as tea was made ready.  Mary had already heard of the incident at the ‘Prince Albert;’ such a piece of news could not be long in reaching Mrs. Bower’s.  She wished to speak of it, yet was in uncertainty whether Lydia had already been told.  The latter was the first to bring forward the subject.

’It’s quite certain she oughtn’t to make a friend of that girl Totty,’ Mary said, with decision.  ’You must insist that it is stopped, Lydia.’

‘I shan’t do any good that way,’ replied the other, shaking her head.  ’I lost my temper last night, like a silly, and of course only harm came of it.’

’But there’s no need to lose your temper.  You must tell her she’s not to speak to the girl again, and there’s an end of it!’

’Thyrza’s too old for that, dear.  I must lead her by kindness, or I can’t lead her at all.  I don’t think, though, she’ll ever do such a thing as that again.  I know what a temptation it was; she does sing so sweetly.  But she won’t do it again now she knows how I think about it.’

Mary appeared doubtful.  Given a suggestion of iniquity, and it was her instinct rather to fear than to hope.  Secretly she had no real liking for Thyrza; something in that complex nature repelled her.  As she herself had said:  ‘Thyrza was not easy to understand,’ but she did understand that the girl’s essential motives were of a kind radically at enmity with her own.  Thyrza, it seemed to her, was worldly in the most hopeless way.

‘You’ll be sorry for it if you’re not firm,’ she remarked.

Lydia made no direct reply, but after a moment’s musing she said: 

‘If only she could think of Mr. Ackroyd!’

She had not yet spoken so plainly of this to Mary; the latter was surprised by the despondency of her tone.

‘But I thought they were often together?’

’She’s only been out with him when I went as well, and last night she told him it was no use.’

‘Well, I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,’ Mary replied with the air of one who spoke an unpleasant truth.

‘Why not, Mary?’

’I think he’s likely to do her every bit as much harm as Totty Nancarrow.’

‘What do you mean, Mary?’ There was a touch of indignation in Lydia’s voice.  ‘What harm can Mr. Ackroyd do to Thyrza?’

’Not the kind of harm you’re thinking of, dear.  But if I had a sister I know I shouldn’t like to see her marry Mr. Ackroyd.  He’s got no religion, and what’s more he’s always talking against religion.  Father says he made a speech last week at that place in Westminster Bridge Road where the Atheists have their meetings.  I don’t deny there’s something nice about him, but I wouldn’t trust a man of that kind.’

Lydia delayed her words a little.  She kept her eyes on the table; her forehead was knitted.

‘I can’t help what he thinks about religion,’ she replied at length, with firmness.  ‘He’s a good man, I’m quite sure of that.’