she had just repeated to me.

'I detest the idea of inflicting pain even on an animal,' I replied,
'and if, as you say, Mr. Rawlings appeared to be suffering on my
account----'

''E was--agonies,' she put in.

'Well, is not the whole position dreadful? Mr. Rawlings is the last,
the very last man, Elizabeth, in the whole world that I should think of
in the way you mention.'

I could not repress a sigh as I spoke. How peculiar is the irony of
fate. Why should I deny (particularly in this, my diary, which
contains the outpourings of my soul) that I have often wished to win
the love of some good strong man who could protect me in the battle of
life and be willing, as it were, like the knights of old, to enter the
lists for my sake. This I could in no way imagine Mr. Rawlings doing.
My conception of the hero of my dreams may have varied from time to
time, but never has it included even the smallest of the
characteristics of William Rawlings. He reminds me of nothing so much
as the very shaggiest bear I have ever seen at the Zoo--not even a nice
white Polar bear, but one of those nondescript, snuff-coloured kinds
that are all ragged ends from top to toe. That a man with such a rough
exterior could be capable of such sickening sentimentality as Elizabeth
had just described quite nauseated me. It made me dislike him more, if
possible, than I had done before.

'Remember, Elizabeth,' I said, looking at her steadily, 'you must not
repeat a word of this to any one. Mr. Rawlings must never know that he
has been discovered in this----'

'Well, 'e knows that _I_ know,' she interrupted.

I stared. 'What do you mean?'

'You see, me bein' in the room when 'e was a-kissin' of your fotograft,
'e looks up an' sees me afore I could get away, quiet, like. "Good
lor', Elizabeth," 'e breaks out, "you don't mean to tell me that you
sor everything, that you 'eard my 'eart strings burstin' in a manner of
speakin'."

'"I'm afraid I did, sir," ses I, "I was just comin' in to dust an' your
sighs bein' rather loud, I couldn't 'elp overhearing."

'"Listen," 'e ses, goin' ashy pale, "you must never tell 'er. I will
win 'er in my own way," 'e ses. "In the meantime, 'ere is ten
shillings, my good girl. Will you put in a word for me with Miss
Worryington from time to time? She may not like me just yet, but I'll
make 'er mine or blow my brains out."

'"I shouldn't do that, sir, if I was you," I ses, "leastways not yet
until you