e should never have a home now. Once he saw a door
open in a squalid line of low houses, and the figure of a man with a
child in his arms stand outlined in the door-way against the ruddy light
within. Dare felt an unreasoning interest in that man. He found himself
thinking of him as the train hurried on, wondering whether his wife was
there waiting for him, and whether he had other children besides the one
he was carrying. And all the time, through his idle musings, he could
hear one sentence ringing in his ears, the last that his lawyer had said
to him after the long consultation of the afternoon.

"I am sorry to tell you that you are incontestably a married man."

Everything repeated it. The hoofs of the cab-horse that took him to the
station had hammered it out remorselessly all the way. The engine had
caught it up, and repeated it with unvarying, endless iteration. The
newspapers were full of it. When Dare turned to them in desperation he
saw it written in large letters across the sham columns. There was
nothing but that anywhere. It was the news of the day. Sick at heart,
and giddy from want of food, he sat crouched up in the corner of his
empty carriage, and vaguely wished the train would journey on for ever
and ever, nervously dreading the time when he should have to get out and
collect his wandering faculties once more.

The old lawyer had been very kind to the agitated, incoherent young man
whose settlements he was already engaged in drawing up. At first,
indeed, it had seemed that the marriage would not be legally
binding--the marriage and divorce having both taken place in Kansas,
where the marriage laws are particularly lax--and he seemed inclined to
be hopeful; but as he informed himself about the particulars of the
divorce his face became grave and graver. When at last Dare produced the
copy of the marriage register, he shook his head.

"'Alfred Dare, bachelor and English subject,'" he said. "That 'English
subject' makes a difficulty to start with. You had never, I believe, any
intention of acquiring what in law we call an American domicil? and,
although the technicalities of this subject are somewhat complicated, I
am afraid that in your case there is little, if any, doubt. The English
courts are very jealous of any interference by foreigners with the
status of an Englishman; and though a divorce legally granted by a
competent tribunal for an adequate cause might--I will not say would--be
held binding