Chapter 35

Mr. Tytherleigh was already at her lodgings, and seeing her arrive, he
hurried out to ask her not to alight. Mr. Travers, he said, wished her to
move into better apartments; he had a short list in his pocket, and
offered to go with her to choose a place. Fan readily consented, and when
he had taken the picture into the house for her, he got into the cab, and
they drove off to the neighbourhood of Portman Square. In Quebec Street
they found what they wanted--two spacious and prettily--furnished rooms
on a first floor in a house owned by a Mrs. Fay. A respectable woman,
very attentive to her lodgers, Mr. Tytherleigh said, and known to Mr.
Travers through a country client of his having used the house for several
years. He also pronounced the terms very moderate, which rather surprised
Fan, whose ideas about moderation were not the same as his.

From Quebec Street they went to the London and Westminster Bank in
Stratford Place, where Fan was made to sign her name in a book; and as
she took the pen into her hand, not knowing what meaning to attach to all
these ceremonies, Mr. Tytherleigh, standing at her elbow, whispered
warningly--"_Frances Eden_." She smiled, and a little colour flushed
her cheeks. Did he imagine that she had forgotten? that the name of
Affleck was anything more to her than a bit of floating thistledown,
which had rested on her for a moment only to float away again, to be
carried by some light wind into illimitable space, to be henceforth and
for ever less than nothing to her? After signing her new name a cheque-
book was handed to her; then Mr. Tytherleigh instructed her in the
mysterious art of drawing a cheque, and as a beginning he showed her how
to write one payable to self for twenty-five pounds; then after handing
it over the counter and receiving five bank-notes for it, they left the
bank and proceeded to a stationer's in Oxford Street, where Fan ordered
her cards.

Mr. Tytherleigh, as if reluctant to part from her, returned to Charlotte
Street in the cab at her side. During their ride back she began to
experience a curious sensation of dependence and helplessness. It would
have been very agreeable to her if this freer, sweeter life which she had
tasted formerly, and which was now hers once more, had come to her as a
gift from her brother; but he had distinctly told her that she had
nothing to thank him for, and only some very vague words about her
father's dying wishes had been spoken. Who then was she dependent on? She
had not been consulted in any way; her employer had simply been told that
it would not be convenient for her to attend again at the place of
business, and now she was sent to live alone in grand apartments, where
she would have a cheque-book and some