answered. "I'd infinitely rather go out."

He pushed back his chair and reached down for his crutches. Still the
fantastic notion that, all unwittingly, he had been guilty of doing
Honoria some strange injury, clung to him. He was sensible of the
desire to offer reparation. This made him more communicative than he
would otherwise have been.

"I saw a man die this morning--that's all," he said. "I know it's
stupid, but one can't help it--it knocks one about a bit. You see he
didn't want to die, poor fellow, though, God knows, he'd little enough
to live for--or to live with, for that matter."

"Your factory hand?" Honoria asked.

Richard slipped out of his chair, and stood upright.

"Yes, my factory hand," he answered. "Dear, old Knott was fearfully
savage about it. He was so tremendously keen on the case, and made sure
of pulling him through. But the poor boy had been sliced up a little
too thoroughly."--Richard paused, smiling at Honoria. "So all one could
do was to go with him just as far as is permitted out into the great
silence, and then--then come home to luncheon. The home at Farley loses
its point, rather, now he is dead. Still there are others, plenty of
others, enough to satisfy even Knott's greed of riveting broken human
crockery.--Oh yes! I shall enjoy riding over, if you are still good to
come. Four o'clock--that'll suit you? I'll order the horses."

And so, in due time, the two rode forth together into the brightness of
the September afternoon. The sea still called, but Dickie's ears were
deaf to all dangerous allurements and excitations resident in that
calling. It had to him, just now, only the pensive charm of a far-away
melody, which, though no doubt of great and immediate import to others,
had ceased to be any concern of his. Beside the death-bed in the
hospital-ward he had renewed his vows, and the efficacy of that renewal
was very present with him. It made for repose. It laid the evil spirit
of defiance, of self-consciousness, of humiliation, so often obtaining
in his intercourse with women--a spirit begotten by the perpetual prick
of his deformity, and in part, too, by his determined adoption of the
ascetic attitude in regard to the affections. He was spent by the
emotions of the morning, but that also made for repose. For the time
being devils were cast out. He was tranquil, yet exalted. His eyes had
a smile in them, as though they looked beyond the limit of things
transitory and material int