persed pinafores, the scraped dishes, the lingering
odour of boiled food. Kate had asked, with cere
mony, if she might put up a window a little, and
Mrs. Condrip had replied without it that she might
do as she liked. She often received such inquiries
as if they reflected in a manner on the pure essence
of her little ones. The four had retired, with much
movement and noise, under imperfect control of
the small Irish governess whom their aunt had
hunted out for them and whose brooding resolve
not to prolong so uncrowned a martyrdom she
already more than suspected. Their mother had
become for Kate who took it just for the effect
of being their mother quite a different thing from
the mild Marian of the past: Mr. Condrip's widow
expansively obscured that image. She was little
more than a ragged relic, a plain, prosaic result of
him, as if she had somehow been pulled through
him as through an obstinate funnel, only to be left
crumpled and useless and with nothing in her but
what he accounted for. She had grown red and
almost fat, which were not happy signs of mourn
ing; less and less like any Croy, particularly a Croy
in trouble, and sensibly like her husband's two un
married sisters, who came to see her, in Kate's
view, much too often and stayed too long, with the
consequence of inroads upon the tea and bread-
and-butter matters as to which Kate, not uncon
cerned with the tradesmen's books, had feelings.
About them, moreover, Marian was touchy, and

[[41]]

p040 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p041w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p042

v?