ntly I daresay you'd remind me of
something I had said. We can go back to the beginning if you like, but
you're not going to play lawyer with me, Ray. It's in a nutshell, I
suppose. You're going to marry Miss Dinnett, or else you're not. Of
course, you know which. And if you won't tell me which, then don't ask
me to talk about it."

"I've not decided."

"Then drop it till you have."

"You're savage now."

"I'm never savage--you know that very well. Or, if I am, it's only with
men who are unsporting."

"Let's generalise, then. I suppose you'd say a man was a fool to marry
out of his own class."

"As a rule, yes. Because marriage is difficult enough at best without
complicating it like that. But there are exceptions. You can't find any
rule without exceptions."

"I'll tell you the truth then, Arthur. I meant to marry Sabina. I
believed that she was the only being in the world worth living for. But
things have happened and now I'm doubtful whether it would be the best
possible."

"And what about her? Is she doubtful too?"

"I don't know. Anyway I've just been down to see her and she wouldn't
see me."

"See her to-morrow then and clear it up. If there's a doubt, give
yourselves the benefit of the doubt. She's tremendously clever, Estelle
says, and she may be clever enough to believe it wouldn't do. And if she
feels like that, you'll be a fool to press it."

They talked on and Waldron, despite his caution, was too ingenuous to
hide his real opinions. He made it very clear to Raymond that any such
match, in his judgment, would be attended by failure. But he spoke in
ignorance of the truth.

The younger went to bed sick of himself. His instincts of right and
honour fought with his desires to be free. His heart sank now at the
prospect of matrimony. He assured himself that he loved Sabina as
steadfastly as ever he had loved her; but that there might yet be a
shared life of happiness for them without the matrimonial chains. He
considered whether it would be possible to influence Sabina in that
direction; he even went so far as to speculate on what would be his
future feelings for her if she insisted upon the sanctity of his
promises.

CHAPTER XVII

CONFUSION

Mr. Churchouse was standing in his porch, when a postman brought him a
parcel. It was a book, and Ernest displayed mild interest.

"What should that be, I wonder?" he said. Then he asked a question.

"Have you seen Bert, the newspaper boy? F