atever line he chose to follow. Why not abandon to Nancy the
inheritance it would degrade him to share, and so purchase back his
freedom? The bargain might be made; a strong man would carry it through,
and ultimately triumph by daring all risks.

Having wrought himself to this point of insensate revolt, he quitted his
musing-station on the bridge, and walked away.

Nancy did not write again. There passed four or five days, and Tarrant,
working hard as well as enjoying the pleasures of Society, made up
his mind not to see her. He would leave events to take their course.
A heaviness of heart often troubled him, but he resisted it, and told
himself that he was becoming stronger.

After a long day of writing, he addressed a packet to a certain
periodical, and went out to post it. No sooner had he left the house
than a woman, who had been about to pass him on the pavement, abruptly
turned round and hurriedly walked away. But for this action, he would
not have noticed her; as it was, he recognised the figure, and an
impulse which allowed of no reflection brought him in a moment to
her side. In the ill-lighted street a face could with difficulty be
observed, but Nancy's features were unmistakable to the eye that now
fell upon them.

'Stop, and let me speak to you,' he exclaimed.

She walked only the more quickly, and he was obliged to take her by the
arm.

'What do you want?'

She spoke as if to an insolent stranger, and shook off his grasp.

'If you have nothing to say to me, why are you here?'

'Here? I suppose the streets are free to me?'

'Nothing would bring you to Great College Street if you didn't know that
I was living here. Now that we have met, we must talk.'

'I have nothing at all to say to you.'

'Well, then _I_ will talk.--Come this way; there's a quiet place where
no one will notice us.'

Nancy kept her eyes resolutely averted from him; he, the while, searched
her face with eagerness, as well as the faint rays of the nearest lamp
allowed it.

'If you have anything to say, you must say it here.'

'It's no use, then. Go your way, and I'll go mine.'

He turned, and walked slowly in the direction of Dean's Yard. There
was the sound of a step behind him, and when he had come into the dark,
quiet square, Nancy was there too.

'Better to be reasonable,' said Tarrant, approaching her again. 'I want
to ask you why you answered a well-meant letter with vulgar insult?'

'The insult came from you,' sh