defend herself against the suspicion of 'treachery'. He
laughed carelessly, and threw her note aside.

Two months passed, and his efforts to find employment were still vain,
though he had received conditional promises The solitude of his life
grew burdensome. Several times he began a letter to Sidwell, but his
difficulty in writing was so great that he destroyed the attempt. In
truth, he knew not how to address her. The words he penned were tumid,
meaningless. He could not send professions of love, for his heart
seemed to be suffering a paralysis, and the laborious artificiality of
his style must have been evident. The only excuse for breaking silence
would be to let her know that he had resumed honest work; he must wait
till the opportunity offered. It did not distress him to be without
news of her. If she wished to write, and was only withheld by ignorance
of his whereabouts, it was well; if she had no thought of sending him a
word, it did not matter. He loved her, and consciously nourished hope,
but for the present there was nothing intolerable in separation. His
state of mind resulted partly from nervous reaction, and in part from a
sense that only by silent suffering could his dignity in Sidwell's eyes
be ultimately restored. Between the evil past and the hopeful future
must be a complete break.

His thoughts kept turning to London, though not because Sidwell might
still be there. He felt urgent need of speaking with a friend. Moxey
was perhaps no longer to be considered one; but Earwaker would be
tolerant of human weaknesses. To have a long talk with Earwaker would
help him to recover his mental balance, to understand himself and his
position better. So one morning in March, on the spur of the moment, he
took train and was once more in the metropolis. On his way he had
determined to send a note to Earwaker before calling at Staple Inn. He
wrote it at a small hotel in Paddington, where he took a room for the
night, and then spent the evening at a theatre, as the best way of
killing time.

By the first post next morning came a card, whereon Earwaker had
written: 'Be here, if you can, at two o'clock. Shall be glad to see
you.'

'So you have been new-furnishing!' Godwin remarked, as he was admitted
to the chambers. 'You look much more comfortable.'

'I'm glad you think so. It is the general opinion.'

They had shaken hands as though this were one of the ordinary meetings
of old time, and their voices scarcely b