d. "There is a thing they call 'incompatibility of
temper'--and married people sign a paper at the lawyer's and promise
never to trouble each other again as long as they both live. And they're
readier to do it in Scotland than they are in England. That's what you
mean--isn't it?"

Mr. Sarrazin found it necessary to reassume his professional character.

"No, indeed, madam," he said, "I should be unworthy of your confidence
if I proposed nothing better than that. You can only secure the sole
possession of little Kitty by getting the help of a judge--"

"Get it at once," Mrs. Linley interposed.

"And you can only prevail on the judge to listen to you," Mr. Sarrazin
proceeded, "in one way. Summon your courage, madam. Apply for a
divorce."

There was a sudden silence. Mrs. Linley rose trembling, as if she
saw--not good Mr. Sarrazin--but the devil himself tempting her. "Do you
hear that?" she said to her mother.

Mrs. Presty only bowed.

"Think of the dreadful exposure!"

Mrs. Presty bowed again.

The lawyer had his opportunity now.

"Well, Mrs. Linley," he asked, "what do you say?"

"No--never!" She made that positive reply; and disposed beforehand of
everything that might have been urged, in the way of remonstrance and
persuasion, by leaving the room. The two persons who remained, sitting
opposite to each other, took opposite views.

"Mr. Sarrazin, she won't do it."

"Mrs. Presty, she will."

Chapter XXVI. Decision.

Punctual to his fishing appointment with Kitty, Mr. Sarrazin was out in
the early morning, waiting on the pier.

Not a breath of wind was stirring; the lazy mist lay asleep on the
further shore of the lake. Here and there only the dim tops of the hills
rose like shadows cast by the earth on the faint gray of the sky. Nearer
at hand, the waters of the lake showed a gloomy surface; no birds flew
over the colorless calm; no passing insects tempted the fish to
rise. From time to time a last-left leaf on the wooded shore dropped
noiselessly and died. No vehicles passed as yet on the lonely road; no
voices were audible from the village; slow and straight wreaths of smoke
stole their way out of the chimneys, and lost their vapor in the misty
sky. The one sound that disturbed the sullen repose of the morning was
the tramp of the lawyer's footsteps, as he paced up and down the pier.
He thought of London and its ceaseless traffic, its roaring high tide of
life in action--and he said to himsel