rance. That which had been lovely, continued
lovely still. And, therefore perhaps,--she could hope it even in the
fulness of her anguish,--the gates of hell might stand open to
ascending as well as descending feet and so that awful road might at
last--at last--be retraced by this tormented child of hers, whom,
though he railed against her, she still supremely loved.

But Richard, whether actually or intentionally it would be difficult to
say, misinterpreted and resented her silence and apparent calm. He
waited for a time, his eyes fastened upon her half-averted face. Then
he picked up one of the remaining packets from the table, tore off the
wrapper, glanced at the contents, stretched out his left arm holding
the said contents suspended over the waste-paper basket.

"Yes, it is evident," he declared, "even you do not care to look! Well,
then, must you not admit that you and I have been guilty of an
extravagance of fatuous folly, and worse, in seriously proposing that a
well-born, sensitive girl should not only look at, habitually and
closely, but take for all her chance in life a crippled dwarf like
me--an anomaly, a human curiosity, a creature so unsightly that it must
be carried about like any baby-in-arms, lest its repulsive ungainliness
should sicken the bystanders if, leaving the shelter of a railway-rug
and an armchair, it tries--unhappy brute--to walk?--Oh! I'm not angry
with her. I don't blame her. I'm not surprised. I agree with her down
to the ground. I sympathise and comprehend--no man more. I told her so
last night--only amazed at the insane egoism that could ever have
induced me to view the matter in any other light. Women are generally
disposed to be hard on one another. But if you, my dear mother, should
be in any degree tempted to be hard on Constance Quayle, I beg you to
consider your own engagement, your own marriage, my father's----"

Here Katherine interrupted him, rising in sudden revolt.

"No, no, Richard," she said, "that is more, my dear, than I can either
permit or can bear. If you have any sort of mercy left in you, do not
bring your father's name, and that which lies between him and me, into
this hideous conversation."

The young man looked hard at her, and then opening his hand, let the
pieces of torn paper flutter down into the basket. It was done with a
singularly measured action, symbolic of casting off some last tie,
severing some last link, which bound his life and his allegiance to