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“I am going to Mother,” said she. “I am not coming back.”

“Um-um,” said Jones.

She paused. Then she came right in and closed the door behind her.

Standing with her back close to the door she spoke to Jones.

“If you cannot see your own conduct as others see it, who can make you? I am not referring to the disgrace of last night, though heaven knows that was bad enough, I am talking of everything, of your poor wife who loves you still, of the estate you have ruined by your lunatic conduct, of the company you keep, of the insults you have heaped on people—and now you add drink to the rest. That’s new.” She paused.

“That’s new. But I warn you, your brain won’t stand that. You know the taint in the family as well as I do, it has shewn itself in your actions. Well, go on drinking and you will end in Bedlam instead of the workhouse. They call you ‘Mad Rochester’; you know that.” She choked. “I have blushed to be known as your sister—I have tried to keep my place here and save you. It’s ended.” She turned to the door.