"What on earth could it have been fastened for?" asked Mrs. Cragg, trying to speak with indifference. She was conscious of failure, however, conscious of a very red face and a disquieted manner, and she saw, or thought she saw, that the girl eyed her curiously. She would have preferred to avoid an interview with her husband just then, but no doubt he would ask later if his message had been given, and she did not wish to arouse a spirit of inquiry. So she walked through the warehouse, hoping not to meet Cragg. Her hopes were vain, for she came plump upon him. Cragg looked up at her abstractedly, and then his gaze grew interested.
"Has anything happened, my dear?"
Mrs. Cragg tossed her head, and increased in redness.
"Anything happened! What should happen, I should like to know?"
"I thought you looked as if something was not right."
"Well, something isn't. I don't want to be kept here, wasting my time."
Mr. Cragg felt disposed to make a useless remark on the small amount of time thus wasted. He refrained because it would be useless.
"If you've anything to say, you can make haste. I want to go out."
"Ann told me you were out some time ago."
"That don't hinder me wanting to go again now." Mrs. Cragg flattered herself that she had avoided telling an untruth, not realising the falsity of that little word "again."