“Oh yes. The first minute I go against you, I’m gone mad. All I want is to be left in peace.”

“Look, bang on the floor or if you want anything. I’ll be down there if you want anything. I declare to God, I don’t know who’d have patience with you.”

“I won’t want anything,” she said dispiritedly.

She was lying back as passive and stricken as though she had not spoken for hours. She did not look up when he went out of the room, but she listened to his steps going down the stairs, and knew a moment later, by a stealthy settling of the house, that he was buried in his armchair by the fire again, with his pipe and the Sunday crossword. She drew a difficult breath of relief and exhaustion and eagerly poured herself a cup of tea.

It was not often that she was sick. She had a strong constitution. She was originally from a country district. She liked to work around in her little back garden, keeping the grass bright and whole, and growing lupine, London pride, wallflowers, freesia, snowdrops, lilies of the valley, forget-me-nots, pansies, nasturtiums, marigolds, and roses. She had other flowers, too. In one corner she had grown ambitious and made a rock garden. In front of the house, in the tiny plot of ground, hardly bigger than a tablecloth, she had peonies, poppies, and crocuses, and a diamond of frail new grass. In the window of her front sitting room she had an array of ferns, and in the spring hyacinths and tulips in red pots.

She was drawn to the poor. There was a constant stream of poor men and women, beggars, coming to her door to ask for food or money. She had never been known to refuse anybody at the door. This annoyed Hubert. He said too many came begging, and that they had got to know her, and that they took advantage. He was often known to give money himself, but he protested that with her it was too much of a good thing. She continued to give to whoever came to the door. Two or three came regularly, some came once in a while, and there were some who only came once. There were some who offered needles, pins, shoelaces, or pencils for sale. One man brought his wife and a large family of young children and stood in the street singing heartily before he came to the door. His wife carried a baby in her arms. She took up her stand, glanced at her husband, and murmured timidly along with him as he sang, while the children gazed hopefully about at the blank windows up and down the terrace.