nd he remembered
everything. He could see her with the mud squelching through her shoes,
friendless, penniless, homeless, without either references or
experience, tramping hour after hour in the rain, standing outside the
shop window where the big kitchen stoves were on exhibition, trying to
imagine that some of the heat from the fires was reaching her numbed
body; and then someone spoke to her--oh, it was all too hideous.

He had intended putting in a hard day's work, starting a new novel, but
there could be no question of that now. He picked up the morning paper
and tried to read that, but, somehow, the pages seemed to be one huge
blurr, and, when the letters did come into line, they always formed the
word "Lalage." At last, in sheer desperation, he took his hat, shut up
the cottage, and went into the town. In the smoking-room of the
principal hotel, he met several men he knew slightly. As a rule, he
would merely have nodded to them, but now the old craving for
companionship was on him again, and he greeted them cordially, whilst,
instead of the one drink he had intended to take, he had so many that he
lost count. When, at last, he did come out, he was still sober so far
as external appearance went; and yet perhaps because the sunlight was
bright whilst the smoking-room had been dark, he failed to notice a
carriage containing a couple of ladies whom he had met at Drylands. They
bowed to him, and then, when he did not raise his hat, exchanged meaning
glances.

The elder, Mrs. Richards, wife of a local magnate, put their thoughts
into words. "We caught sight of him going in there two hours ago, and
now he cannot see us. I had heard a rumour that there was that especial
failing, but I had hoped it wasn't true. Now, however----" She was a
kindly-natured woman, and she broke off with a sigh.

Her companion nodded. "I wonder if that nice Miss Farlow knows. Mrs.
Grimmer hinted that an engagement was quite possible, and I think
someone ought to warn the girl. It would be a dreadful thing if she
found out too late."

Jimmy's outbreak was, however, of very short duration. Even as he walked
back to the cottage Vera's influence, or rather, the thought of all that
marriage with Vera would mean, reasserted itself, and the memory of
Lalage began to grow dim again. After all, what was the good of making
himself miserable about the dead past? It could not be changed, and so
the best thing to do was to try and forget it, as far as