But the more these conscious illusions of the ruling classes are shown to be false and the less they satisfy common sense, the more dogmatically they are as-serted and the more deceitful, moralizing and spiritual becomes the language of established society.

—Marx, German Ideology (1845-1846)

Sarah had, of course, arrived home—though “home” is a sarcasm in the circumstances—before Mrs. Fairley. She had played her usual part in Mrs. Poulteney’s evening devotions; and she had then retired to her own room for a few minutes. Mrs. Fairley seized her chance; and the few minutes were all she needed. She came herself and knocked on the door of Sarah’s bedroom. Sarah opened it. She had her usual mask of resigned sadness, but Mrs. Fairley was brimming with triumph.

“The mistress is waiting. At once, if you please.”

Sarah looked down and nodded faintly. Mrs. Fairley thrust a look, sardonic and as sour as verjuice, at that meek head, and rustled venomously away. She did not go downstairs however, but waited around a corner until she heard the door of Mrs. Poulteney’s drawing room open and close on the secretary-companion. Then she stole silently to the door and listened.

Mrs. Poulteney was not, for once, established on her throne; but stood at the window, placing all her eloquence in her back.

“You wish to speak to me?”

But Mrs. Poulteney apparently did not, for she neither moved nor uttered a sound. Perhaps it was the omission of her customary title of “madam” that silenced her; there was a something in Sarah’s tone that made it clear the omission was deliberate. Sarah looked from the black back to an occasional table that lay between the two women. An enve-lope lay conspicuously on it. The minutest tightening of her lips—into a determination or a resentment, it was hard to say which—was her only reaction to this freezing majesty, who if the truth be known was slightly at a loss for the best way of crushing this serpent she had so regrettably taken to her bosom. Mrs. Poulteney elected at last for one blow of the axe.

“A month’s wages are in that packet. You will take it in lieu of notice. You will depart this house at your earliest convenience tomorrow morning.”

Sarah now had the effrontery to use Mrs. Poulteney’s weapon in return. She neither moved nor answered; until that lady, outraged, deigned to turn and show her white face, upon which burnt two pink spots of repressed emotion.

“Did you not hear me, miss?”

“Am I not to be told why?”

“Do you dare to be impertinent!”

“I dare to ask t............