her attitude towards his marriage; he told himself that even the
crime (flashing splendidly through his brain) of cutting himself free
from the Robinsons with one heroic stroke in order to throw his whole
life into this wonderful romance would be futile. Would Lady Betty ever
consent to happiness purchased at such a price?--woo her as he might!

But this sweet, dainty dream of her brief companionship--was he called
upon to turn away from it? Surely, no; else she had been the last to
dazzle him with it. Her lead could be trusted to be beyond reproach.
And, however she regarded it in her heart, would there not be for him a
little of strangely deep happiness; something to remember always, to
leave a smile on his face at the moment of death?

The charm of the thought won him almost irresistibly. Lady Betty was his
inspiration for ever; nay, that ideal elusive face would have been his
inspiration even if he had never encountered her again. The harm--if
harm there was in their meeting again--had been done irreparably in the
past!

All would be over soon enough! What could emphasise it more than this
very letter of hers he held in his hand? Was it not Lady Betty's
underlying thought in this desire for an exchange of souvenirs?

All would be over soon enough! Life would bear them apart, but the touch
of sweetness would remain as an illumination. He could never be cheated
out of that.

What was this souvenir she intended for him--this "strange, strange
thought" of hers? She had in truth piqued his curiosity, and he foresaw
her delight at his admitting it. What, indeed, could it be? And,
occupied now with this fascinating speculation, he languidly took up his
other letters, his fingers turning them over with an extreme
indifference. Presently, with a sudden decision, he broke Alice's
envelope, and began to read her note. Three of the sides out of four
were exactly as he had anticipated, but towards the end he lighted on a
passage that unnerved him abruptly. "I have been thinking of your
friends in Grosvenor Place. My heart goes out to Lady Lakeden. How hers
must lie broken and bleeding! To lose a husband after only a few months
of wedded life! I shut my eyes and try to think that such a thing cannot
happen! And she and her father have always been so kind to you. My love
for you is so great that I love everybody that spares one little thought
specially for you."

Wyndham threw the letter down. That was enough; he must sacrif