At his words, Mrs Sucksby''s face gave a twitch. She raised a hand to the bodice of her dress.
''Feel it!'' she said, moving her fingers. ''Feel the motion here, then tell me I ain''t afraid!''
''Feel that?'' he said, with a glance at her bosom. ''I don''t think so.'' Then he smiled. ''You may get your daughter to do it, however. She''s had practice.''
I cannot say for certain what came next. I know that, hearing his words, I took a step towards him, meaning to strike him or make him be silent. I know that Maud and Mrs Sucksby reached him first. I do not know if Mrs Sucksby, when she darted, darted at him, or only—seeing Maud fly—at her. I know there was the gleam of something bright, the scuffle of shoes, the swish of taffeta and silk, the rushing of someone''s breath. I think a chair was scraped or knocked upon the floor. I know Mr Ibbs called out. ''Grace! Grace!'' he called: and even in the middle of all the confusion, I thought it a queer thing to call; until I realised it was Mrs Sucksby''s first name, that we never heard used.
And so, it was Mr Ibbs I was watching, when it happened. I didn''t see it when Gentleman began to stagger. But I heard him groan. It was a soft sort of groan.
''Have you hit me?'' he said. His voice was strange.
Then I looked.
He supposed he ha