ould satisfy them all. How often he
had said that what he wanted was a little capital to establish a
comfortable home of his own, when he would feel settled for life. No
thought now of furnished lodgings. Fancy making one's husband a present
of two hundred and fifty pounds! Much better that than receiving
presents oneself.

She was to meet Luke to-night, and it was time that a definite
arrangement was made as to their marriage. Somehow, Totty did not feel
quite so joyous as she ought to have done; she could not fix her mind
on the two hundred and fifty pounds, but it wandered off to other
things which had nothing to do with money. 'Come now,' she said to
herself at length, 'do I care for anybody more than for him? No; it's
quite certain I don't. Do I care much for him himself? Do I care for
him properly?' Suddenly she thought of Thyrza; she remembered Thyrza's
question: 'Do you love him, Totty?'

No, she did not love him. She had known it for a good many weeks. And,
what was more, she had known perfectly well that he did not love her.

There it was, no doubt. 'If he loved me, I should love him. I could; I
think I could. Not like Thyrza loved Mr. Egremont, to go mad about him;
that isn't my style; I wouldn't be so foolish about _any_ man, not I!
But I could be very fond of him. And--there's no hiding it--I'm not--I
shouldn't grieve a bit if we said good-bye to-night and never saw each
other again.'

How did she know he didn't love her? 'As if I couldn't tell! Just
listen when he speaks about Thyrza; he'd never speak about me like
that, if I ran away from him. And how he speaks about Lydia; why, even
about Lydia he thinks a good deal more than he does about me. He often
talks to me as if I was a man; he wouldn't if he--if he loved me.'

Totty found it difficult to say that word even to herself. 'The fact of
the matter is, I don't think as I shall ever care proper for anybody.
I've a good mind not to marry at all, as I always said I wouldn't. I
was right enough as long as I kept to that. The girls 'll only make fun
of me.'

Yes, but her promise?--She began to feel gloomy. Perhaps nightfall had
something to do with it. Should she make tea? No, she didn't care for
it. She would go out--somewhere.

She walked from Newport Street to Lambeth Road, passed Bethlehem
Hospital (Bedlam), and came to St. George's Cathedral. It is a long,
vast, ugly building, unfinished, for it still lacks towers; in the dark
it looked very c