would be happy. I smiled
at the thought of the vast number of bad pictures he would
paint before he died.

Next day I saw him off for Amsterdam.

Chapter XL

For the next month, occupied with my own affairs, I saw no one
connected with this lamentable business, and my mind ceased to
be occupied with it. But one day, when I was walking along,
bent on some errand, I passed Charles Strickland. The sight
of him brought back to me all the horror which I was not
unwilling to forget, and I felt in me a sudden repulsion for
the cause of it. Nodding, for it would have been childish to
cut him, I walked on quickly; but in a minute I felt a hand on
my shoulder.

"You're in a great hurry," he said cordially.

It was characteristic of him to display geniality with anyone
who showed a disinclination to meet him, and the coolness of
my greeting can have left him in little doubt of that.

"I am," I answered briefly.

"I'll walk along with you," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"For the pleasure of your society."

I did not answer, and he walked by my side silently.
We continued thus for perhaps a quarter of a mile. I began to
feel a little ridiculous. At last we passed a stationer's,
and it occurred to me that I might as well buy some paper.
It would be an excuse to be rid of him.

"I'm going in here," I said. "Good-bye."

"I'll wait for you."

I shrugged my shoulders, and went into the shop. I reflected
that French paper was bad, and that, foiled of my purpose,
I need not burden myself with a purchase that I did not need.
I asked for something I knew could not be provided, and in a
minute came out into the street.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.

"No."

We walked on in silence, and then came to a place where
several streets met. I stopped at the curb.

"Which way do you go?" I enquired.

"Your way," he smiled.

"I'm going home."

"I'll come along with you and smoke a pipe."

"You might wait for an invitation," I retorted frigidly.

"I would if I thought there was any chance of getting one."

"Do you see that wall in front of you?" I said, pointing.

"Yes."

"In that case I should have thought you could see also that I
don't want your company."

"I vaguely suspected it, I confess."

I could not help a chuckle. It is one of the defects of my
character that I cannot altogether dislike anyone who makes me laugh.
But I pulled myself together.

"I think you're detestable. Yo