, should he not? Should he rip out the knife that
would cut this knot which circumstances seemed to be tying?

"You want to know exactly what it is," he said suddenly. "Then it's
this. I'm not the type of man who marries. I've seen marriage with
other men and I've seen quite enough of it. My sister's married;
marriage has the making of women as a rule, it gives them place, power,
they want that--so much the better for them. With marriage, they get
it. My sister has often tried to persuade me to marry, drop my life,
adopt the social entity, and worship the god of respectability. I'd
sooner put a rope round my neck and swing from the nearest lamp-post.
And so, you see, I'm no fit company for you. I don't live the sort
of life you'd choose a man to live. I'm not really the sort of man
you take me for in the least. At dinner, this evening, you called
me a gentleman. I'm not even the sort of gentleman as you understand
him; though I've been trying to live up to my idea of the genus, ever
since you said it. My dear Sally"--he took her hand--she let him hold
it--"you don't know anything about the world, and I don't want to
teach you the lesson that I suppose some man or circumstances will
bring you to learn one day. Take my advice and have no truck with
me."

He blew out the last remaining candle, took her arm and led her to
the door. They walked down the one flight of stairs together, their
footsteps echoing up through the empty house; out on the pavement
he called a hansom, held his arm across the wheel as she stepped in;
turned to the cabby, gave him his fare, told him Waterloo Station;
then he leant across the step of the cab and held out his hand.

"Good-bye, Sally," he said.

She tried to answer him, but her words were dry and clung in her
throat.

CHAPTER XVIII

The hour of twelve was tolling out across the water from the little
church on Kew Green, when Sally fitted her borrowed latch-key into
the door. She had performed the journey back to Kew Bridge in a stupor
of mind that could hold no single thought, review no single event
with any clearness of vision. It was as if not one evening, but three
days, had passed by since she had left the office of Bonsfield &
CO.--the day they had dined together--the day on which they had
watched that terrible fight--the day, the last of all, when she had
awakened from unconsciousness, had struggled through a cruel agony
of mind, and had finally said good-bye to him fo