the dark, round to
Piccadilly. To be thus slinking out of the world's sight with the
daughter of his old room-mate--of all men in the world the last perhaps
that he should do this to! A nice treacherous business! But the thing
men called honour--what was it, when her eyes were looking at him and her
shoulder touching his?

Since he had spoken those words, "Yes, I want you," she had been
silent--fearful perhaps to let other words destroy their comfort. But
near the gate by Hyde Park Corner she put her hand again into his, and
again her voice, so clear, said:

"I don't want to hurt anybody, but you WILL let me come sometimes--you
will let me see you--you won't leave me all alone, thinking that I'll
never see you again?"

And once more, without knowing what he answered, Lennan murmured:

"No, no! It'll be all right, dear--it'll all come right. It must--and
shall."

Again her fingers twined amongst his, like a child's. She seemed to have
a wonderful knowledge of the exact thing to say and do to keep him
helpless. And she went on:

"I didn't try to love you--it isn't wrong to love--it wouldn't hurt her.
I only want a little of your love."

A little--always a little! But he was solely bent on comforting her now.
To think of her going home, and sitting lonely, frightened, and unhappy,
all the evening, was dreadful. And holding her fingers tight, he kept on
murmuring words of would-be comfort.

Then he saw that they were out in Piccadilly. How far dared he go with
her along the railings before he said good-bye? A man was coming towards
them, just where he had met Dromore that first fatal afternoon nine
months ago; a man with a slight lurch in his walk and a tall, shining hat
a little on one side. But thank Heaven!--it was not Dromore--only one
somewhat like him, who in passing stared sphinx-like at Nell. And Lennan
said:

"You must go home now, child; we mustn't be seen together."

For a moment he thought she was going to break down, refuse to leave him.
Then she threw up her head, and for a second stood like that, quite
motionless, looking in his face. Suddenly stripping off her glove, she
thrust her warm, clinging hand into his. Her lips smiled faintly, tears
stood in her eyes; then she drew her hand away and plunged into the
traffic. He saw her turn the corner of her street and disappear. And
with the warmth of that passionate little hand still stinging his palm,
he almost ran towards Hyde Park