earable
days. In the present state of my feelings it would be awful. Agnes is
very kind and most conscientious, but she does not know what is in me,
what was always and will always be there. Old reminiscences crowd round
me. They are very beautiful, although they are so sad."

"What is one to do?" said Robert, "in the presence of fate and facts? It
is necessary to look the affair in the face. Do you, or don't you, wish
to marry Miss Carillon?"

"I do, and I don't," answered Reckage doggedly. "But I can't close my
eyes to the circumstances of the case. I found myself hard bested from
the very beginning. I knew that I was expected to marry her. I knew,
too, that it was a suitable match in every way. But then every girl is,
to some extent, accomplished, pious, virtuous, and intelligent. I
believe sometimes that my apparent indifference towards Agnes arises
from the fact that I respect her--if anything--too much. She seems too
remote--that is the word--for the ordinary wear and tear of domesticity.
Other men--who might be called impassioned lovers--would be less
scrupulous. I maintain that devotion of that violent kind is worth
absolutely nothing. And I claim to know a little about life and love."

"I should say," said Orange, "that you knew more about mere physiology."

Reckage laughed uneasily.

"You keep your mediaeval views!" said he. "Perhaps I envy you. I can't
say. I don't think I envy any one. I am quite contented."

"Then what are you driving at?"

"Oh well, a fellow must think. You see, Sara suits me, in a sense. I am
not afraid of her. Now a wife is a sacred object. You might as well
flirt with the Ten Commandments as fall in love with your wife. I say,
never begin love-making with the lady you hope to marry. It will end in
disaster. Because the day must come when she will wonder why you have
changed. No, a wife should be the one woman in the world with whom you
can spend days and weeks of unreproved coldness."

They were now smoking, and the tobacco seemed to produce a
tranquillising effect upon his lordship. He closed his lips and amused
himself by puffing rings of smoke into the air. When he next spoke, he
suggested a visit to the theatre. He had engaged a box for the new
burlesque, "_The Blue Princess_."

"It will be very good, and it will cheer us up," said he.

Orange was in no mood for the entertainment, but Reckage's evident
misery seemed to require a fresh scene. The streets, as they left the