and
the facts of life, and she had taken the risk with her eyes open. It would
be madness to allow such an accident to disturb the whole pattern of his
life. He was one of the few people who was acutely conscious of the
transitoriness of life, and how necessary it was to make the most of it.
He would do what he could for Sally; he could afford to give her a
sufficient sum of money. A strong man would never allow himself to be
turned from his purpose.

Philip said all this to himself, but he knew he could not do it. He simply
could not. He knew himself.

"I'm so damned weak," he muttered despairingly.

She had trusted him and been kind to him. He simply could not do a thing
which, notwithstanding all his reason, he felt was horrible. He knew he
would have no peace on his travels if he had the thought constantly with
him that she was wretched. Besides, there were her father and mother: they
had always treated him well; it was not possible to repay them with
ingratitude. The only thing was to marry Sally as quickly as possible. He
would write to Doctor South, tell him he was going to be married at once,
and say that if his offer still held he was willing to accept it. That
sort of practice, among poor people, was the only one possible for him;
there his deformity did not matter, and they would not sneer at the simple
manners of his wife. It was curious to think of her as his wife, it gave
him a queer, soft feeling; and a wave of emotion spread over him as he
thought of the child which was his. He had little doubt that Doctor South
would be glad to have him, and he pictured to himself the life he would
lead with Sally in the fishing village. They would have a little house
within sight of the sea, and he would watch the mighty ships passing to
the lands he would never know. Perhaps that was the wisest thing. Cronshaw
had told him that the facts of life mattered nothing to him who by the
power of fancy held in fee the twin realms of space and time. It was true.
Forever wilt thou love and she be fair!

His wedding present to his wife would be all his high hopes.
Self-sacrifice! Philip was uplifted by its beauty, and all through the
evening he thought of it. He was so excited that he could not read. He
seemed to be driven out of his rooms into the streets, and he walked up
and down Birdcage Walk, his heart throbbing with joy. He could hardly bear
his impatience. He wanted to see Sally's happiness when he made her his
offer,