et her," he had said decisively, interrupting her
awkward little speech of thanks. "That will be all right. Mrs.
Bullen hasn't known what to do with herself since her son went to
sea; she wants a child to care for. You needn't worry yourself about
that."

It was after this that Kitty had owned to the nurse that she had no
desire to live; and though the shifting of this burden enabled her
to carry her life for a time less wearily, the end was not far; and
the news of her death came to Rainham just after the first snowfall,
in the middle of a dreary, cruel December.

The winter wore on, and still Rainham was to be seen almost nightly
in his now familiar corner by the fireside at Brodonowski's, in the
seat next that which had become Oswyn's by right of almost
immemorial occupation. His negotiations with the company who were to
buy him out of his ancestral dock were still incomplete, and now he
felt a strange reluctance to hurry matters, to hasten the day on
which he should be forced to leave the little room looking out upon
the unprofitable river which he loved.

The two men would sit together, sometimes talking, but far more
often not, until a very late hour; and when the doors were closed
upon them they often wandered aimlessly in the empty streets,
dismissing their cares in contemplation of great moonlit buildings,
or the strong, silent river, sliding under the solemn bridges;
united from day to day more closely by the rare sympathy which asks
no questions and finds its chief expression in silence. One thing
they both hated--to be alone; but loneliness for them was not what
most mortals understand by the name. There was company for them in
inanimate things--in books, in pictures, and even in objects less
expressive; they were men who did not fear their thoughts, who
looked to the past for their greatest pleasures. And now for Rainham
the whole of life was a thing so essentially weary and flavourless
that the _ennui_ of little things seemed hardly worth consideration.
He was dumbly content to let destiny lead him whither it would,
without apprehension, without expectation. Oswyn had asked him, one
evening, just before they parted on the doorstep of the club, with a
certain abruptness which the other had long since learnt to
understand, why he was in London instead of being at Bordighera.
Rainham sighed, echoing the question as if the idea suggested was
entirely novel.

"Why, because---- Well, for one thing, because