"She mustn't come in now," Louis protested.
"Come in, Mrs. Tams," Rachel repeated decisively.
And Mrs. Tams entered, curtsying towards the bed.
"What is it?" Rachel asked her.
"It's the greengrocer's cart, ma'am." The greengrocer usually did send
round on Saturday mornings.
"I'll go down. Just clear up that washstand, will you?"
It was remarkable to Louis how chance would favour a woman in an
altercation. But he had decided, even if somewhat hysterically, to
submit to no more delay, and to end the altercation--and moreover, to
end it in his own way.
"Rachel!" he called. Several times he called her name, more and more
loudly. He ignored what was due to servants, to greengrocers, and to
the dignity of employers. He kept on calling.
"Shall I fetch missis, sir?" Mrs. Tams suggested at length.
He nodded. Mrs. Tams departed, laden. Certainly the fat creature, from
whom nothing could be hid by a younger generation, had divined that
strife had supervened on illness, and that great destinies hung upon
the issue. Neither Mrs. Tams nor Rachel returned to the bedroom. Louis
began again to call for Rachel, and then to yell for her. He could
feel that the effort was exhausting him, but he was determined to
vanquish her.
Pages:
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415