t you?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, I think I will, too. Miss Gloria can let herself
in, anyway, same as comin' from the theatre. But can I git ye anythink?
No? Well, you know your wye up, sir, down't ye?"

"Yes, yes; good-night, Liza!"

"Good-night, Farver!"

He had set his foot on the stair to go up to the drawing-room when it
suddenly occurred to him that though he was the minister of God he was
using the weapons of the devil. No matter! If he had been about to commit
a crime it would have been different. But this was no crime, and he was
no criminal. He was the instrument of God's mercy to the woman he loved.
_He was going to slay her body that he might save her soul!_

VII.

The journey home from the Derby had been a long one, but Glory had
enjoyed it. When she had settled down to the physical discomfort of the
blinding and choking dust, the humours of the road became amusing. This
endless procession of good-humoured ruffianism sweeping through the most
sacred retreats of Nature, this inroad of every order of the Stygian
_demi-monde_ on to the slopes of Olympus, was intensely interesting. Men
and women merry with drink, all laughing, shouting, and singing; some in
fine clothes and lounging in carriages, others in striped jerseys and
yellow cotton dresses, huddled up on donkey barrows; some smoking
cigarettes and cigars and drinking champagne, others smoking clay pipes
with the bowls downward, and flourishing bottles of ale; some holding
rhubarb leaves over their heads for umbrellas, and pelting the police
with _confetti_; others wearing executioners' masks, false mustaches, and
red-tipped noses, and blowing bleating notes out of penny trumpets--but
all one family, one company, one class.

There were ghastly scenes as well as humorous ones--an old horse, killed
by the day's work and thrown into the ditch by the roadside, axletrees
broken by the heavy loads and people thrown out of their carts and cut,
boy tramps dragging along like worn-out old men, and a Welsher with his
clothes torn to ribbons, stealing across the fields to escape a yelping
and infuriated crowd.

But the atmosphere was full of gaiety, and Glory laughed at nearly
everything. Lord Robert, with his arm about Betty's waist, was chaffing a
coster who had a drunken woman on his back seat. "Got a passenger,
driver?" "Yuss, sir, and I'm agoin' 'ome to my wife to-night, and thet's
more nor you dare do." A young fellow in pearl buttons was trampin