e in difficulties, always ready with comfort or
with cheery advice; whoever wanted help went to him as though it were
the most natural thing in the world. And it was touching to see the
dog-like devotion to his wife; he had such confidence in her that he
never noticed her numerous flirtations. Pritchard-Wallace thought
himself rather a dull stick, and he wanted her to amuse herself. So
brilliant a creature could not be expected to find sufficient
entertainment in a quiet man of easy-going habits.

"Go your own way, my girl," he said; "I know you're all right. And so
long as you keep a place for me in the bottom of your heart, you can do
whatever you like."

"Of course, I don't care two straws for anyone but you, silly old
thing!"

And she pulled his moustache and kissed his lips; and he went off on
his business, his heart swelling with gratitude, because Providence had
given him the enduring love of so beautiful and enchanting a little
woman.

"P. W. is worth ten of you," James told her indignantly one day, when he
had been witness to some audacious deception.

"Well, he doesn't think so. And that's the chief thing."

* * *

James dared not see her. It was obviously best to have destroyed the
letter. After all, it was probably nothing more than a curt, formal
congratulation, and its coldness would nearly have broken his heart. He
feared also lest in his never-ceasing thought he had crystallised his
beloved into something quite different from reality. His imagination was
very active, and its constant play upon those few recollections might
easily have added many a false delight. To meet Mrs. Wallace would only
bring perhaps a painful disillusion; and of that James was terrified,
for without this passion which occupied his whole soul he would be now
singularly alone in the world. It was a fantastic, charming figure that
he had made for himself, and he could worship it without danger and
without reproach. Was it not better to preserve his dream from the
sullen irruption of fact? But why would that perfume come perpetually
entangling itself with his memory? It gave the image new substance; and
when he closed his eyes, the woman seemed so near that he could feel
against his face the fragrance of her breath.

He dined alone, and spent the hours that followed in reading. By some
chance he was able to find no one he knew, and he felt rather bored. He
went to bed with a headache, feeling already the dreariness of Londo