"If you still loved me as you once did," he said, in a lower voice, "this would be no hardship. Indeed, I should never have had to utter such words."
"I still do love you," she answered, very quietly. "If I did not, I should revolt against your claim. But it is too certain that we no longer live on the old terms."
They avoided each other's eyes, and after a long silence left the room without again speaking.
CHAPTER IV
THE DENYERS IN ENGLAND
"There!" said Mrs. Denyer, laying money on the table. "There are your wages, up to the end of April—notwithstanding your impertinence to me this morning, you see. Once more I forgive you. And new get on with your work, and let us have no more unpleasantness."
It was in the back parlour of a small house at Hampstead, a room scantily furnished and not remarkably clean. Mrs. Denyer sat at the table, some loose papers before her. She was in mourning, but still fresh of complexion, and a trifle stouter than when she lived at Naples, two years and a half ago. Her words were addressed to a domestic (most plainly, of all work), who without ceremony gathered the coins up in both her hands, counted them, and then said with decision:
"Now I'm goin', mum."
"Going? Indeed you are not, my girl! You don't leave this house without the due notice."