It had positively not
occurred to her to consider the legal aspect of George's conduct.

"But what can you do?" she asked, with the innocent, ignorant
helplessness of a girl.

"I can disappear," he replied. "That's all I can do! I don't see myself
in prison. I went over Stafford Prison once. The Governor showed several
of us over. And I don't see myself in prison."

He began to cast things into the portmanteau, and as he did so he
proceeded, without a single glance at Hilda:

"You'll be all right for money and so on. But I should advise you to
leave here and not to come back any sooner than you can help. That's the
best thing you can do. And be Hilda Lessways again!... Sarah will have
to manage this place as best she can. Fortunately, her health's
improved. She can make it pay very well if she likes. It's a handsome
living for her. My deposit on the Chichester and so on will have to be
forfeited."

"And you?" she murmured.

His back was towards her. He turned his head, looked at her
enigmatically for an instant, and resumed his packing.

She desired to help him with the packing, she desired to show him some
tenderness; her heart was cleft in two with pity; but she could not
move; some harshness of pride or vanity prevented her from moving.

When he had carelessly finished the portmanteau, he strode to the door,
opened it wide, and called out in a loud, firm voice:

"Louisa!"

A reply came weakly from the top floor:

"Yes, sir."

"I want you." He had a short way with Louisa.

After a brief delay, she came to the bedroom door.

"Run down to the King's Road and get me a cab," he said to her at the
door, as it were confidentially.

"Yes, sir." The woman was like a Christian slave.

"Here! Take the portmanteau down with you to the front door." He gave
her the portmanteau.

"Yes, sir."

She disappeared; and then there was the noise of the front door opening.

George picked up his hat and abruptly left the room. Hilda moved to and
fro nervously, stiff with having stood still so long. She wondered how
he, and how she, would comport themselves in the ordeal of adieu. In a
few moments a cab drove up--Louisa had probably encountered it on the
way. Hilda waited, tense. Then she heard the cab driving off again. She
rushed aghast to the window. She saw the roof of the disappearing cab,
and the unwieldy portmanteau on it.... He had gone! He had gone without
saying good-bye! That was his device for simplifying