s to run, but Norah was
holding me by the arm. Savagely I tried to shake her off. I was weak
from my recent illness, and, I suppose, half starved; it angered me
to learn she was the stronger of the two. In spite of my efforts, she
dragged me back.

Ashamed of my weakness, ashamed of everything about me, I burst into
tears; and that of course made me still more ashamed. To add to my
discomfort, I had no handkerchief. Holding me with one hand--it was
quite sufficient--Norah produced her own, and wiped my eyes. The
park-keeper, satisfied, I suppose, that at all events I was not
dangerous, with a grin passed on.

"Where have you been, and what have you been doing?" asked Norah.
She still retained her grip upon me, and in her grey eyes was quiet
determination.

So, with my face turned away from her, I told her the whole miserable
story, taking strange satisfaction in exaggerating, if anything, my own
share of the disgrace. My recital ended, I sat staring down the long,
shadow-freckled way, and for awhile there was no sound but the chirping
of the sparrows.

Then behind me I beard a smothered laugh. It was impossible to imagine
it could come from Norah. I turned quickly to see who had stolen upon
us. It was Norah who was laughing; though to do her justice she was
trying to suppress it, holding her handkerchief to her face. It was of
no use, it would out; she abandoned the struggle, and gave way to it. It
astonished the sparrows into silence; they stood in a row upon the low
iron border and looked at one another.

"I am glad you think it funny," I said.

"But it is funny," she persisted. "Don't say you have lost your sense
of humour, Paul; it was the one real thing you possessed. You were so
cocky--you don't know how cocky you were! Everybody was a fool but
Vane; nobody else but he appreciated you at your true worth. You and he
between you were going to reform the stage, to educate the public,
to put everything and everybody to rights. I am awfully sorry for all
you've gone through; but now that it is over, can't you see yourself
that it is funny?"

Faintly, dimly, this aspect of the case, for the very first time, began
to present itself to me; but I should have preferred Norah to have been
impressed by its tragedy.

"That is not all," I said. "I nearly ran away with another man's wife."

I was glad to notice that sobered her somewhat. "Nearly? Why not quite?"
she asked more seriously.

"She thought I was some yo