She was glad to have tea with
Charlie Woodruff. It would distract her, prevent her from
thinking. The ecstasy had almost died out, and she had a violent
desire not to think.
III
A terrible blow fell upon her the next morning. Stephen had one of
his bad colds, one of his worst. The mere cold she could have
supported with fortitude, but he was forced to remain indoors, and
his presence in the house she could not support with fortitude.
The music-stool would be sure to arrive before lunch, and he would
be there to see it arrive. The ecstasy had fully expired now, and
she had more leisure to think than she wanted. She could not
imagine what mad instinct had compelled her to buy the music-
stool. (Once out of the shop these instincts always are difficult
to imagine.) She knew that Stephen would be angry. He might
perhaps go to the length of returning the music-stool whence it
came. For, though she was a pretty and pampered woman, Stephen had
a way, in the last resort, of being master of his own house. And
she could not even placate him with the gift of a cigar-cabinet.
She could not buy a five-guinea cigar-cabinet with ten and six.
She had no other money in the world. She never had money, yet
money was always running through her fingers. Stephen treated her
generously, gave her an ample allowance, but he would under no
circumstances permit credit, nor would he pay her allowance in
advance.
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