''Don''t you be thinking,'' she says, ''on things that are done and can''t be changed. All right, dear girl? You think of the time to come.''
She imagines I brood upon my past. But I am still brooding on my future. I am still watching keys as they are turned—soon one will be left in a lock, I know it. I am watching Dainty and John, Mr Ibbs— they are growing too used to me. They''ll turn careless, they''ll forget. Soon, I think. Soon, Maud.
So I think; until this happens.
Richard takes to leaving the house each day, not saying where he is going. He has no money, and will have none until the bringing of the lawyer: I think he goes only to walk the dusty streets, or to sit in the parks; I think the heat and the closeness of the Borough kitchen stifles him as much as it stifles me. One day, however, he goes, but returns in an hour. The house is quiet, for once: Mr Ibbs and John are out, and Dainty is sleeping in a chair. Mrs Sucksby lets him into the kitchen, and he throws off his hat and kisses her cheek. His face is flushed and his eyes are gleaming.
''Well, what do you think?'' he says.
''Dear boy, I can''t imagine! Have all your horses come up at once?''
''Better than that,'' he says. He reaches for me. ''Maud? What do you think? Come, out of the shadows. Don''t look so fierce! Save that, till you''ve heard my news. It concerns you, rather.''