of loneliness; the
future was worse than ever, a barren waste whose horizon would never
darken to the silhouette of Kathleen coming towards him with open arms.
Never would he hold her hand again; never would he touch those lips at
all; never would he even know what dresses she wore in summer. _'O love,
my love, and no love for me.'_

When Michael met Kathleen by the side-gate of the Winter Gardens, and
received his bicycle back from Trimble, he suddenly wondered whether
Kathleen had told her betrothed that another had held her hand. Michael
rather hoped she had, and that the news of it had made Trimble jealous.
Trimble, however, seemed particularly pleased with himself, and invited
Michael to spend the afternoon with him, which Michael promised to do,
if his mother did not want his company.

"Well, did you have a decent morning?" Michael enquired of Kathleen, as
together they rode towards their hotel.

"Oh, we had a grand time; we sat down where you and me sat the other
day."

Michael nearly mounted the pavement at this news, and looked very
gloomy.

"What's the matter?" Kathleen pursued. "You're not put out, are you?"

"Oh, no, not at all," said Michael sardonically. "All the same, I think
you might have turned off and gone another road. I sat and thought of
you all the morning. But I don't mind really," he added, remembering
that at any rate for Kathleen he must remain that chivalrous and
selfless being which had been created by the loan of a bicycle. "I'm
glad you enjoyed yourself. I always want you to be happy. All my life I
shall want that."

Michael was surprized to find how much more eloquent he was in the
throes of disappointment than he had ever been through the prompting of
passion. He wished that the hotel were not already in sight, for he felt
that he could easily say much more about his renunciation, and indeed he
made up his mind to do so at the first opportunity. In the afternoon he
told his mother he was going to pay a visit to Father Moneypenny. He did
not tell her about Trimble, because he feared her teazing; although he
tried to deceive himself that the lie was due to his loyalty to
Kathleen.

"What shall we do?" asked Trimble. "Shall we toddle round to the Shades
and have a drink?"

"Just as you like," Michael said.

"Well, I'm on for a drink. It's easier to talk down at the Shades than
in here."

Michael wondered why, but he accepted a cigar, and with Trimble sought
the speech-compel