Her husband became once more a working man.

Doubtless he would return to London; their home would be a poor one, like that of ordinary working folk.
How would he bear it?
How would he take this from _her_?
Fear crept insidiously about her heart, though she fought to banish it.

It was a fear of the instinct, clinging to trifles in the memory, feeding upon tones, glances, the impressions of forgotten moments.

She was conscious that here at length was the crucial test of her husband's nature, and in spite of every generous impulse she dreaded the issue.
To that dread she durst not abandon herself; to let it grow even for an instant cost her a sensation of faintness, a desire to flee for cover to those who would naturally protect her.

To give up all--and to Hubert Eldon! She recalled his voice when the other day he spoke of Hubert.
He had not since recurred to the subject, but his manner still bore the significance with which that conversation had invested it.