I have done my best, but I can bear no more.
We will go, you and I----"

Catching her in his arms he held her close, whispering incoherent,
broken words in her ear, while the little yellow dog, thinking it was a
game, snapped playfully at her trailing skirts.

"You will go with me, my woman? You and I alone, all alone? For ever and
ever and ever?"

And putting her arms round his neck she answered, "Yes, I will go with
you. For ever."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brigit Mead did not go to bed at all that night. All night she worked in
her little flat making her plans, packing, and writing letters.

She had burnt her boats and the relief was great. Having broken with her
mother, there was no need for her to write to Kingsmead. To Tommy she
sent a note, saying that she was going away, but would write soon and
explain.

To Pam Lensky she wrote a rather long letter, for there were some few
things she wanted made clear.

"Dear Pam,"--she began abruptly--"I am going away with Victor
Joyselle. I wonder if you will blame me? In case you do, here is my only
defence. I hate my present life, I am miserable without Joyselle, and he
is miserable without me. My mother, with whom I have been on fairly
decent terms since Tommy has been ill, is hopeless. Gerald Carron shot
himself to-day, and mother, just, I honestly believe, to indulge her own
taste for sentimental scenes, turned on me about him and pretended to
believe a story he told her just before I left Pont Street--that I was
Joyselle's mistress, in fact. If she believed the story I would forgive
her, though it is not true, but I cannot forgive the kind of mind that
can amuse itself with such vulgar melodrama. I have always disliked my
mother, and now I simply cannot bear her any longer.

"And I have no other ties except Tommy. Tommy, to whom I shall write
before long, is nearly well. He will be forbidden to come to see me, but
he will come, and I do not think it will hurt him.

"As to Theo, Pam, I am deeply grieved. He is a remarkably nice young
man, but I cannot marry him, and the mere fact of his father's loving me
will not much hurt him. Whatever his father does, Theo in the long run
thinks right, and he, too, will forgive us.

"Then there is poor Felicite. She has been very kind to me, but she has
been stupid and over-self-confident, and I cannot consider her. I must
consider him. She will suffer and I am indeed sorry, poor soul, but
he--he shall be happy. So go