defeat?

If any excuse could be found for Lancelot, it would be that which he
administered to his conscience morning and evening like a soothing
syrup. His position was grown so desperate that Mary Ann almost stood
between him and suicide. Continued disappointment made his soul sick;
his proud heart fed on itself. He would bite his lips till the blood
came, vowing never to give in. And not only would he not move an inch
from his ideal, he would rather die than gratify Peter by falling back
on him; he would never even accept that cheque which was virtually his
own.

It was wonderful how, in his stoniest moments, the sight of Mary Ann's
candid face, eloquent with dumb devotion, softened and melted him. He
would take her gloved hand and press it silently. And Mary Ann never
knew one iota of his inmost thought! He could not bring himself to
that; indeed, she never for a moment appeared to him in the light of an
intelligent being; at her best she was a sweet, simple, loving child.
And he scarce spoke to her at all now--theirs was a silent
communion--he had no heart to converse with her as he had done. The
piano, too, was almost silent; the canary sang less and less, though
spring was coming, and glints of sunshine stole between the wires of
its cage; even Beethoven sometimes failed to bark when there was a
knock at the street door.

And at last there came a day when--for the first time in his
life--Lancelot inspected his wardrobe, and hunted together his odds and
ends of jewelry. From this significant task he was aroused by hearing
Mrs. Leadbatter coughing in his sitting-room.

He went in with an interrogative look.

"Oh, my chest!" said Mrs. Leadbatter, patting it. "It's no use my
denyin' of it, sir, I'm done up. It's as much as I can do to crawl up
to the top to bed. I'm thinkin' I shall have to make up a bed in the
kitchen. It only shows 'ow right I was to send for my Rosie, though
quite the lady, and where will you find a nattier nursemaid in all
Bayswater?"

"Nowhere," assented Lancelot automatically.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd noticed her running in to see 'er pore old
mother of a Sunday arternoon," said Mrs. Leadbatter, highly gratified.
"Well, sir, I won't say anything about the hextry gas, though a poor
widder and sevenpence hextry on the thousand, but I'm thinkin' if you
would give my Rosie a lesson once a week on that there pianner, it
would be a kind of set-off, for you know, sir, the police