was tempted into answering his
letters.... I knew I was behaving wrongly; I can't defend myself.... I
have never concealed my faults from you--the greatest of them is my
fear of poverty. I believe it is this that has prevented me from
returning your love as I wished to do. For a long time I have been
playing a deceitful part, and the strange thing is that I _knew_ my
exposure might come at any moment. I seem to have been led on by a sort
of despair. Now I am tired of it; whether you were prepared for this or
not, I must tell you.... I don't ask you to release me. I have been
wronging you and acting against my conscience, and if you can forgive
me I will try to make up for the ill I have done...."

How much of this could he believe? Gladly he would have fooled himself
into believing it all, but the rational soul in him cast out credulity.
Every phrase of the letter was calculated for its impression. And the
very risk she had run, was not that too a matter of deliberate
speculation? She _might_ succeed in her design upon Narramore; if she
failed, the 'poorer man was still to be counted upon, for she knew the
extent of her power over him. It was worth the endeavour. Perhaps, in
her insolent self-confidence, she did not fear the effect on Narramore
of the disclosure that might be made to him. And who could say that her
boldness was not likely to be justified?

He burned with wrath against her, the wrath of a hopelessly infatuated
man. Thoughts of revenge, no matter how ignoble, harassed his mind. She
counted on his slavish spirit, and even in saying that she did not ask
him to release her, she saw herself already released. At each reperusal
of her letter he felt more resolved to disappoint the hope that
inspired it. When she learnt from Patty that Narramore was still
ignorant of her history how would she exult! But that joy should be
brief. In the name of common honesty he would protect his friend. If
Narramore chose to take her with his eyes open----

Jealous frenzy kept him pacing the room for an hour or two. Then he
went forth and haunted the neighbourhood of New Street station until
within five minutes of the time of departure of Patty's train. If Eve
kept her promise to see the girl off he might surprise her upon the
platform.

From the bridge crossing the lines he surveyed the crowd of people that
waited by the London train, a bank-holiday train taking back a freight
of excursionists. There-amid he discovered Eve,