same time
a great desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to
adjust his mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When
he received the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go.
The Captain saw him to the door.

'Good-bye.' Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his
words meaningless. 'Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once.
Don't hang about Finola any more. She's a splendid woman, but she's not
for you. If you married her you'd be perfectly miserable. Not that I
think she'd ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things.
If by any chance she does, you'll have to be very careful. Give her her
head, and take her easy up to the jumps. Don't try to hustle her, and
for God's sake don't begin sawing at her mouth. I'd very much like to be
here to see you in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.' He sighed.
'But, of course, I can't. The British Isles will be too hot for me for
a while. However, who can tell what might happen if I win a good medal
from old Kruger, and capture a few British Generals? I might act best
man for you yet, if you'll wait a year or two.'

When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye
was Grealy's ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed
to the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped
his bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he
must leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview
with Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would
be intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him
into submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had
done once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not
sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be
dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold
lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct
reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told
why he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his
surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a
friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first
necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr.
Henry, tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that
was impossible. How could