ly.

"If she goes--it is not quite certain--I shall look after her," said
Nigel.

Meyer Isaacson said nothing; and, after a silence that was awkward,
Nigel changed the conversation, and not long after went away. When he
was gone, Isaacson returned to his sitting-room upstairs and lit a
nargeeleh pipe. He had turned out all the electric burners except one,
and as he sat alone there in the small room, so dimly lighted, holding
the long, snake-like pipe-stem in his thin, artistic hands, he looked
like an Eastern Jew. With a fez upon his head, Europe would have dropped
from him. Even his expression seemed to have become wholly Eastern, in
its sombre, glittering intelligence, and in the patience of its craft.

"I shall look after her."

Said about a woman like Mrs. Chepstow by a man of Nigel's youth, and
strength, and temperament, that could only mean one of two things, a
liaison or a marriage. Which did it mean? Isaacson tried to infer from
Nigel's tone and manner. His friend had seemed embarrassed, had
certainly been embarrassed. But that might have been caused by something
in his, Isaacson's, look or manner. Though Nigel was enthusiastic and
determined, he was not insensitive to what was passing in the mind of
one he admired and liked. He perhaps felt Isaacson's want of sympathy,
even direct hostility. On the other hand, he might have been embarrassed
by a sense of some obscure self-betrayal. Often men talk of uplifting
others just before they fall down themselves. Was he going to embark on
a liaison with this woman whom he pitied? And was he ashamed of the deed
in advance?

A marriage would be such madness! Yet something in Isaacson at this
moment almost wished that Nigel contemplated marriage--his secret
admiration of the virtue in his friend. Such an act would be of a piece
with Nigel's character, whereas a liaison--and yet Nigel was no saint.

Isaacson thought what the world would say, and suddenly he knew the
reality of his affection for Nigel. The idea of the gossip pained,
almost shocked him; of the gossip and bitter truths. A liaison would
bring forth almost disgusted and wholly ironical laughter at the animal
passions of man, as blatantly shown by Nigel. And a marriage? Well, the
verdict on that would be, "Cracky!"

Isaacson's brain could not dispute the fact that there would be justice
in that verdict. Yet who does not secretly love the fighter for lost
causes?

"I shall look after her."

The express