Siegmund's lying late in bed made Beatrice very angry. The later it
became, the more wrathful she grew. At half past nine she had taken up
his shaving-water. Then she proceeded to tidy the dining-room, leaving
the breakfast spread in the kitchen.

Vera and Frank were gone up to town; they would both be home for dinner
at two o'clock. Marjory was despatched on an errand, taking Gwen with
her. The children had no need to return home immediately, therefore it
was highly probable they would play in the field or in the lane for an
hour or two. Beatrice was alone downstairs. It was a hot, still morning,
when everything outdoors shone brightly, and all indoors was dusked with
coolness and colour. But Beatrice was angry. She moved rapidly and
determinedly about the dining-room, thrusting old newspapers and
magazines between the cupboard and the wall, throwing the litter in the
grate, which was clear, Friday having been charwoman's day, passing
swiftly, lightly over the front of the furniture with the duster. It was
Saturday, when she did not spend much time over the work. In the
afternoon she was going out with Vera. That was not, however, what
occupied her mind as she brushed aside her work. She had determined to
have a settlement with Siegmund, as to how matters should continue. She
was going to have no more of the past three years' life; things had come
to a crisis, and there must be an alteration. Beatrice was going to do
battle, therefore she flew at her work, thus stirring herself up to a
proper heat of blood. All the time, as she thrust things out of sight,
or straightened a cover, she listened for Siegmund to come downstairs.