Her presence always roused a sort of irritation in Cecilia, as if she had been suddenly confronted with what might possibly have been herself if certain little accidents had omitted to occur.

She was so conscious that she ought to sympathise, so anxious to show that there was no barrier between them, so eager to be all she ought to be, that her voice almost purred.
"Are you Getting on with the curtains, Mrs.Hughs ?" "Yes, m'm, thank you, m'm." "I shall have another job for you to-morrow--altering a dress.

Can you come ?" "Yes, m'm, thank you, m'm." "Is the baby well ?" "Yes, m'm, thank you, m'm." There was a silence.
'It's no good talking of her domestic matters,' thought Cecilia; 'not that I don't care!' But the silence getting on her nerves, she said quickly: "Is your husband behaving himself better ?" There was no answer; Cecilia saw a tear trickle slowly down the woman's cheek.
'Oh dear, oh dear,' she thought; 'poor thing! I'm in for it!' Mrs.Hughs' whispering voice began: "He's behaving himself dreadful, m'm.

I was going to speak to you.

It's ever since that young girl"-- her face hardened--"come to live down in my room there; he seem to--he seem to--just do nothing but neglect me." Cecilia's heart gave the little pleasurable flutter which the heart must feel at the love dramas of other people, however painful.
"You mean the little model ?" she said.
The seamstress answered in an agitated voice: "I don't want to speak against her, but she's put a spell on him, that's what she has; he don't seem able to do nothing but talk of her, and hang about her room.