an
appointment to meet Mr Poker in the city later on in the day, and
then was left together with Mr Whittlestaff at the club.

It was soon decided that Mr Whittlestaff should give up all idea of
the diamond-fields, and in so doing he allowed himself to be brought
back to a state of semi-courteous conversation with his happy rival.
"Well, yes; you may write to her, I suppose. Indeed I don't know
what right I have to say that you may, or you mayn't. She's more
yours than mine, I suppose." "Turn her out! I don't know what makes
you take such an idea as that in your head." John Gordon had not
suggested that Mr Whittlestaff would turn Mary Lawrie out,--though
he had spoken of the steps he would have to take were he to find
Mary left without a home. "She shall have my house as her own till
she can find another. As she will not be my wife, she shall be my
daughter,--till she is somebody else's wife." "I told you before that
you may come and marry her. Indeed I can't help myself. Of course
you may go on as you would with some other girl;--only I wish it
were some other girl. You can go and stay with Montagu Blake, if you
please. It is nothing to me. Everybody knows it now." Then he did say
good-bye, though he could not be persuaded to shake hands with John
Gordon.

Mr Whittlestaff did not go home that day, but on the next, remaining
in town till he was driven out of it by twenty-four hours of absolute
misery. He had said to himself that he would remain till he could
think of some future plan of life that should have in it some better
promise of success for him than his sudden scheme of going to the
diamond-fields. But there was no other plan which became practicable
in his eyes. On the afternoon of the very next day London was no
longer bearable to him; and as there was no other place but Croker's
Hall to which he could take himself with any prospect of meeting
friends who would know anything of his ways of life, he did go down
on the following day. One consequence of this was, that Mary had
received from her lover the letter which he had written almost as
soon as he had received Mr Whittlestaff's permission to write. The
letter was as follows:--

DEAR MARY,--I do not know whether you are surprised by
what Mr Whittlestaff has done; but I am,--so much so that
I hardly know how to write to you on the matter. If you
will think of it, I have never written to you, and have
never been in a position in which writ