uttered would most likely have harmonised with
their gentler thoughts. But the mischief was done so speedily.

A man must indeed be graciously endowed if his personal appearance can
defy the disadvantage of cheap modern clothing worn into shapelessness.
Reardon had no such remarkable physique, and it was not wonderful that
his wife felt ashamed of him. Strictly ashamed; he seemed to her a
social inferior; the impression was so strong that it resisted all
memory of his spiritual qualities. She might have anticipated this state
of things, and have armed herself to encounter it, but somehow she had
not done so. For more than five months she had been living among people
who dressed well; the contrast was too suddenly forced upon her. She was
especially susceptible in such matters, and had become none the less
so under the demoralising influence of her misfortunes. True, she soon
began to feel ashamed of her shame, but that could not annihilate the
natural feeling and its results.

'I don't love him. I can't love him.' Thus she spoke to herself, with
immutable decision. She had been doubtful till now, but all doubt was at
an end. Had Reardon been practical man enough to procure by hook or
by crook a decent suit of clothes for this interview, that ridiculous
trifle might have made all the difference in what was to result.

He turned again, and spoke with the harshness of a man who feels that he
is despised, and is determined to show an equal contempt.

'I came to ask you what you propose to do in case I go to Croydon.'

'I have no proposal to make whatever.'

'That means, then, that you are content to go on living here?'

'If I have no choice, I must make myself content.'

'But you have a choice.'

'None has yet been offered me.'

'Then I offer it now,' said Reardon, speaking less aggressively. 'I
shall have a dwelling rent free, and a hundred and fifty pounds a
year--perhaps it would be more in keeping with my station if I say that
I shall have something less than three pounds a week. You can either
accept from me half this money, as up to now, or come and take your
place again as my wife. Please to decide what you will do.'

'I will let you know by letter in a few days.'

It seemed impossible to her to say she would return, yet a refusal to
do so involved nothing less than separation for the rest of their lives.
Postponement of decision was her only resource.

'I must know at once,' said Reardon.

'I can't a