st that the only puzzle was, how to get the whole of the fortune when I was only due to have half. My comfort must be, that I had eighteen years for figuring it out in. I thought many times of you.''
I turn my face. ''I never asked for your thoughts,'' I say. ''I don''t want them now.''
''Ungrateful, Maud!'' says Richard. ''Here has Mrs Sucksby been, plotting so hard in your behalf, so long. Another girl—don''t girls seek only to be the heroines of romance?—another girl might fancy herself distinguished.''
I look from him back to Mrs Sucksby, saying nothing. She nods. ''I thought often of you,'' she says again, ''and wondered how you got on. I supposed you handsome. Dear girl, you are!'' She swallows. ''I had two fears, only. The first was, that you might die. The second was, that your grand-dad and uncle should take you away from England and have you married before the lady''s secret come out. Then I read in a paper that your grand-dad died. Then I heard how your uncle lived quietly, in the country; and had you with him, and kept you in a quiet way, too. There''s my two fears both gone!'' She smiles. ''Meanwhile,'' she says—and now her eyelids flutter—''Meanwhile, here''s Sue. You have seen, dear girl, how close and quiet I have kept the lady''s word.'' She pats her gown. ''Well, what was the word to me, without Sue to pin it to? Think how close and quiet I have kept her. Think how safe. Think how sharp such a girl might have grown, in a house like this one, in a street like ours; then think how hard Mr Ibbs and me have worked to keep her blunt. Think how deep I puzzled it over— knowing I must use her at the last, but never quite knowing how. Think how it begins to come clear, when I meets Gentleman— think how quick my fear that you might be secretly married, turns into my knowing that he is the chap that must secretly marry you . . . It''s the work of another minute, then, to look at Sue and know what ought to be done with her.'' She shrugs. ''Well, and