ve stopped her. But I hadn't. And, besides, how could I foresee
what she would say to me and how she would affect me? No; I lied to her
at every point. My whole attitude was a lie. Supposing you and I had
gone off together before I had seen her, and then I had met her
afterwards, I could have looked her in the face--sorrowfully, with a
heart bleeding--but I could have looked her in the face. But after this
interview--no; it would be impossible for me to face her with you at
my side! Don't I put things crudely, horribly! I know everything that
you will say. You could not bring a single argument that I have not
thought of.

'However, arguments are nothing. It is how I feel. Fate is against us.
Possibly I have ruined your life and mine without having done anything to
improve hers; and possibly I have saved us all three from terrible
misery. Possibly fate is with us. No one can say. I don't know what will
happen in the immediate future; I won't think about it. If you do as I
wish, if you have any desire to show me that I have any influence over
you, you will go back to live with your wife. Where did you sleep last
night? Or did you walk the streets? You must not answer this letter at
present. Write to me later. Do not try to see me. I won't see you. We
_mustn't_ meet. I am going away at once. I don't think I could stand
another scene with your wife, and she would be sure to come again to me.

'Try to resume your old existence. You can do it if you try. Remember
that your wife is no more to blame than you are, or than I am. Remember
that you loved her once. And remember that I act as I am acting because
there is no other way for me. _C'est plus fort que moi,_ I am going to
Torquay. I let you know this--I hate concealment; and anyway you would
find out. But I shall trust you not to follow me. I shall trust you. You
are saying that this is a very different woman from last night. It is. I
haven't yet realized what my feelings are. I expect I shall realize them
in a few days. I send with this a manuscript. It is nothing. I send it
merely to put Emmeline off the scent, so that she shall think that it is
purely business. Now I shall _trust_ you.--C. P.'

I commenced the letter without even a 'Dear Frank,' and I ended it
without an affectionate word.

'I should like you to take these down to Mr. Ispenlove's office,' I said
to Emmeline. 'Ask for him and give them to him yourself. There's no
answer. He's pretty sure to be in. But