"When I am Rob's wife, if that ever comes to pass, he will find that a parish tea has to give way to me."
Mrs. Framley doubted the fact, but forebore to say so.
"I am sure he would do what you wish, if he could. But if he cannot—"
"It only shows that slums are more to him than I am."
Patricia walked across to the fireplace and threw a letter into the flames. She watched the disappearance of Rob's signature, as it slowly blackened and curled.
"Does she mean to toss him overboard?" questioned the elder lady.
"I would not be too sure," she remarked with soothing intent. "He naturally feels bound to his work, even at some cost to himself."
"He ought to consider the cost to me. But he never does. I have seen that, plainly—and I have my doubts—"
Mrs. Framley repeated the last word.
"Whether he really wishes things to be as they are! Once or twice before he has refused to do what I wished. And it can't go on. I shall make this a test-case."