emptible."

"You are just Mrs Baggett over again."

"Very well; I am quite satisfied. Mrs Baggett is a good woman. She
can do something beyond lying on a sofa and reading novels, while her
good looks fade away. It is simply because a woman is pretty and weak
that she is made so much of, and is encouraged to neglect her duties.
By God's help I will not neglect mine. Do not go to London."

He seemed as though he hesitated as he sat there under the spell
of her little hand upon his shoulder. And in truth he did hesitate.
Could it not be that he should be allowed to sit there all his days,
and have her hand about his neck somewhat after this fashion? Was
he bound to give it all up? What was it that ordinary selfishness
allowed? What depth of self-indulgence amounted to a wickedness which
a man could not permit himself to enjoy without absolutely hating
himself? It would be easy in this case to have all that he wanted. He
need not send the letter. He need not take this wretched journey to
London. Looking forward, as he thought that he could look, judging
from the girl's character, he believed that he would have all that he
desired,--all that a gracious God could give him,--if he would make
her the recognised partner of his bed and his board. Then would he be
proud when men should see what sort of a wife he had got for himself
at last in place of Catherine Bailey. And why should she not love
him? Did not all her words tend to show that there was love?

And then suddenly there came a frown across his face, as she stood
looking at him. She was getting to know the manner of that frown. Now
she stooped down to kiss it away from his brow. It was a brave thing
to do; but she did it with a consciousness of her courage. "Now I may
burn the letter," she said, as though she were about to depart upon
the errand.

"No, by heaven!" he said. "Let me have a sandwich and a glass of
wine, for I shall start in an hour."

With a glance of his thoughts he had answered all those questions.
He had taught himself what ordinary selfishness allowed. Ordinary
selfishness,--such selfishness as that of which he would have
permitted himself the indulgence,--must have allowed him to disregard
the misery of John Gordon, and to keep the girl to himself. As
far as John Gordon was concerned, he would not have cared for his
sufferings. He was as much to himself,--or more,--than could be
John Gordon. He did not love John Gordon, and could have doomed him