ch he had made light of that Quita might feel free to devote
herself to Richardson, whose first bout of fever had been severe. But
when pain and heated blood had subsided, the broken nights remained. A
crushed habit--let it be never so sternly trodden under--retains its
vitality for an amazing length of time. Lenox fought the threatened
return of insomnia with every legitimate weapon; spent the greater part
of each night in his study, writing doggedly, or pacing the long room
with mechanical persistence,--to no purpose.

Then, with a stunned incredulity, he realised what was happening.
Stealthily, insistently, the old craving was reasserting its dominion
over him. He had been prepared for the possibility of its
recrudescence once or twice in the event of illness or mental strain,
before he could count it conquered for good. But that it should have
come so soon, and upon so slight a provocation, knocked all the heart
out of him; blackened for the time being his whole outlook on life. In
ordinary circumstances, he would have found it an unspeakable relief to
share the trouble with his wife; to give her the chance she had once so
desired of helping him to fight against it. But now they were rarely
alone together for long; and her lightly detached attitude tended to
establish rather than dispel his native instinct of reserve. Moreover,
she was so happily absorbed in ministering to his friend, that he
shrank from shadowing her bright nature with the cloud that darkened
his own;--a mistake arising from his rudimentary knowledge of women.
For an appeal to her deeper sympathies might have wakened her
undeveloped mother instinct; and by drawing them into closer union
might have averted much. But in the last event, it is 'character that
makes circumstance, and character is inexorable.'

Thus Lenox, lying back in his chair, was still far from recognising his
fundamental error. He was simply pondering Quita's last words to him,
and endorsing their truth with characteristic honesty. He had put
himself in the wrong by his manner of broaching the subject; but the
belief in his right to speak of it remained. He was prepared to put up
with a good deal for Dick, but not for others; and it was beginning to
dawn upon him that Dick was in all likelihood the first of a series;
that only so could her need for varied companionship be satisfied. An
idea that suggested disturbing contingencies. His mind reverted to
Garth, to Sir R