rve, abasing himself. "I'm utterly
ashamed. I'd give anything to be able to undo it."

She was startled and offended. She had not expected that he would kiss
the dust. She hated to see him thus. She thought: "It isn't all your
fault. It's just as much mine as yours. But even if I was ashamed I'd
never confess it. Never would I grovel! And never would I want to undo
anything! After all you took the chances. You did what you thought best.
Why be ashamed when things go wrong? You wouldn't have been ashamed if
things had gone right."

"Of course," he said, after a pause, "I'm completely done for!"

He spoke so solemnly, and with such intense conviction, that she was
awed and appalled. She felt as one who, having alone escaped destruction
in an earthquake, stands afar off and contemplates the silent, corpse-
strewn ruin of a vast city.

And the thought ran through her mind like a squirrel through a tree:
"How _could_ he refuse her four thousand pounds? And if she wouldn't
have it back,--well, what was he to do? She must be a horrible woman!"

IV

Both of them heard a heavy step pass up the staircase. It was Louisa's;
she paused to strike a match and light the gas on the landing; and went
on. But Sarah Gailey had given no sign, and the Watchetts were still
shut in the dining-room. All these middle-aged women were preoccupied by
the affair of George Cannon. All of them guessed now that Louisa's
charge was not unfounded--otherwise, why the mysterious and interminable
interview between George Cannon and Hilda in the bedroom? Hilda pictured
them all. And she thought: "But it is _I_ who am in the bedroom with
him! It is I who am living through it and facing it out! They are all
far older than me, but they are outsiders. They don't know what life
is!"

George rose, picked up a portmanteau, and threw it open on the bed.

"And what is to be done?" Hilda asked, trembling.

He turned and looked at her.

"I suppose I mustn't stay here?"

She shook her head, with lips pressed tight.

His voice was thick and obscure when he asked: "You won't come with me?"

She shook her head again. She could not have spoken. She was in acute
torture.

"Well," he said, "I suppose I can count on you not to give me up to the
police?"

"The police?" she exclaimed. "Why?"

"Well, you know,--it's a three years' job--at least. Ever heard the word
'bigamy'?" His voice was slightly ironical.

"Oh dear!" she breathed, already disconcerted.