right, Jinny. You always were right, you always will be damnably
right."

"And you always will be--oh dear me--so rude."

He looked in her face like a whipped dog trying to reinstate himself in
favour, as far as Tanqueray could look like a whipped dog.

"Let me carry those books for you," he said.

"You may carry the books, but I don't like you, Tanks."

His devil, the old devil that used to be in him, looked at her then.

"You used to like me," he said.

But Jinny was beyond its torment. "Of course I liked you. I liked you
awfully. You were another person then."

He said nothing to that.

"Forgive me, George," she said presently. "You see, I love your little
wife."

"I love you for loving her," he said.

"You may go on loving me for that. But you needn't come any further with
me. I know my way."

"But I want to come with you."

"And I, unfortunately, want to be alone."

"You shall. I'll walk behind you--as many yards as you like behind you.
I've got to carry the books."

"Bother the books. I'll carry them."

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

They walked together in silence till the station doors were in sight. He
meant to go with her all the way to Putney, carrying the books.

"I wish," he said, "I knew what would really please you."

"You do know," she said.

A moment passed. Tanqueray stopped his stride.

"I'll go back and beg her pardon--_now_."

She gave him her hand. He went back; and between them they forgot the
books.

Though it was not yet ten the light was low in Rose's bedroom. Rose had
gone to bed. He went up to her room. He raised the light a little,
quietly, and stood by her bedside. She lay there, all huddled, her body
rounded, her knees drawn up as if she had curled into herself in her
misery. One arm was flung out on the bed-clothes, the hand hung cramped
over a fold of blanket; sleep only had slackened its convulsive grip.
Her lips were parted, her soft face was relaxed, blurred, stained in
scarlet patches. She had cried herself to sleep.

And as he looked at her he remembered how happy she had been playing
with Jinny's baby; and how his brutal words had struck her in the hurt
place where she was always tender.

His heart smote him. He undressed quietly and lay down beside her.

She stirred; and, finding him there, gave a little cry and put her arms
about him.

And then he asked her to forgive him, and she said there was nothing to
forgive.

She added with her see