'Yes.'
'What day?'
He hesitates. Shall he make a clean breast of it? Yes; 'in for a penny, in for a pound.'
'I have been there five days,' replies he slowly, and looking down.
Another pause. He keeps his eyes resolutely averted from her face, but he hears an angry catch in her breath.
'In the morning, I suppose, before I was up?'
'Yes.'
She breaks into a rather shrill laugh.
'What an incentive to early rising! The early Blowsabel picks the worm.'
Her tone is so inexpressibly insulting that he has to bite his lips hard to keep in the furious retort that rises to them; but he masters himself. Of what use to bandy words with an angry woman? And, after all, from her point of view she has some cause of complaint. Franky has altered his mind, and trotted off after his senior, for whose tree-climbing, cat-teasing, general mischief-doing powers he entertains a respect tempered with fear. They are alone.