letter with a grim smile, then handed it to
Lalage, who was bubbling over with wrath long before she reached the end
of it.

"They are horrid, Jimmy, really they are. They see something wrong in
everything you do. It's quite enough to drive you to the bad, never
giving you a chance, and treating you like a silly little boy. I'm sure
you don't drink as she says you do. She must be a nasty-minded woman.
You know I should be the last to want to separate you from your family,
or anything like that, if they were good to you; but as it is, I'm sure
you're much better here than in those miserable lodgings, all alone and
moping. That would make you drink."

They were having breakfast at the time, but Lalage looked so sweet,
lying back in a big wicker chair, wrapped in an old kimono of Jimmy's,
that he felt compelled to lean over and kiss her.

"You won't let me go to drink, will you, Lalage?" he asked.

"Of course not," she answered promptly. "You know how I feel about
that. Yet your people would never believe it if they found me--when they
find me. We girls," she looked up, a little defiantly, "we girls are
supposed to be everything that is bad; whilst they, your City people,
have got all the virtues, except charity, which they don't imagine they
need."

Jimmy coloured. "You're a bit rough on them sometimes, Lalage," he said.

She shook her head emphatically. "I'm not too rough. Have they any idea
of charity, any idea of forgiveness? If I were able to live respectably
again, live a good life, would they, or any of their kind, allow me to
wipe out the past and start afresh?"

Jimmy suddenly became busy with a cigarette he was rolling. "You are
living a respectable life now," he muttered, weakly evading the
question.

But Lalage smiled bitterly, and then, with a sudden change of
expression, she laid her hand on his, very gently. "No, Jimmy dear,
let's be straight, even amongst ourselves. You are all right, because
you're a man, and men are allowed to do these things; but they would all
treat me as a bad woman, as something rather worse than a dog. Even you,
dear, don't respect me, in your heart, although I have tried to make
you."

The man got up suddenly, tossing his newly made cigarette into the
grate. "I do respect you, you know I do. To me, you come before everyone
else in the world; and I think as much of you, as if, as if----" He
stammered a little, and, still very gently, she finished the sentence
for him.