ate."

"I thought you'd soon get tired of giving yourself airs and keeping
away!"

"Well--don't do the door. That's all I say."

She then sallied out again, and first hastening back to Jude's to
make sure that he had not returned, began her search for him. A
shrewd guess as to his probable course took her straight to the
tavern which Jude had formerly frequented, and where she had been
barmaid for a brief term. She had no sooner opened the door of the
"Private Bar" than her eyes fell upon him--sitting in the shade at
the back of the compartment, with his eyes fixed on the floor in a
blank stare. He was drinking nothing stronger than ale just then.
He did not observe her, and she entered and sat beside him.

Jude looked up, and said without surprise: "You've come to have
something, Arabella? ... I'm trying to forget her: that's all! But
I can't; and I am going home." She saw that he was a little way on
in liquor, but only a little as yet.

"I've come entirely to look for you, dear boy. You are not well.
Now you must have something better than that." Arabella held up her
finger to the barmaid. "You shall have a liqueur--that's better fit
for a man of education than beer. You shall have maraschino, or
curacao dry or sweet, or cherry brandy. I'll treat you, poor chap!"

"I don't care which! Say cherry brandy... Sue has served me badly,
very badly. I didn't expect it of Sue! I stuck to her, and she
ought to have stuck to me. I'd have sold my soul for her sake, but
she wouldn't risk hers a jot for me. To save her own soul she lets
mine go damn! ... But it isn't her fault, poor little girl--I am
sure it isn't!"

How Arabella had obtained money did not appear, but she ordered a
liqueur each, and paid for them. When they had drunk these Arabella
suggested another; and Jude had the pleasure of being, as it were,
personally conducted through the varieties of spirituous delectation
by one who knew the landmarks well. Arabella kept very considerably
in the rear of Jude; but though she only sipped where he drank, she
took as much as she could safely take without losing her head--which
was not a little, as the crimson upon her countenance showed.

Her tone towards him to-night was uniformly soothing and cajoling;
and whenever he said "I don't care what happens to me," a thing he
did continually, she replied, "But I do very much!" The closing hour
came, and they were compelled to turn out; whereupon Arab