at
the back of her mind, there was sense of disappointment, a feeling that
both she and her lover were wanting in enthusiasm; but, if she did
experience anything of the sort, she crushed it down resolutely, knowing
well that passion is closely allied to wickedness, if it is not even a
form of wickedness. She had been taught from childhood that sentiment is
of necessity either sinful or ridiculous, and that the basis of a
successful marriage--which was her people's phrase for a happy
marriage--is equality of position, combined with business instincts on
the part of the man. People in her world lived to get on; it was a
sacred duty with them; failure to do so was discreditable, almost
criminal, as she had often heard her mother say when engaged in district
visiting amongst the homes of the improvident poor. Jimmy would get on,
she fully believed that, especially when he had a sensible wife to help
him; moreover, he was both good looking and sweet natured; consequently,
she told herself that he was all she could have wished for. It had
never occurred to her that he might have a past, because neither the
Griersons, nor the Farlows, nor anyone in their world, ever had such
things. They seemed to live in a monotonous present of negative virtue,
wholly safe and solid. So she had asked him no questions, and he had
volunteered no confessions.

The day passed all too quickly for Jimmy, too quickly, not because he
was revelling in the society of his fiancee, but because each hour
brought him nearer the moment when he must write that final letter to
Lalage. He stayed later than usual, so late that Ethel had a hard task
to hide her yawns; but when, at last, he did go back to the cottage, he
made no attempt to carry out what had now become the most hateful task
of his life.

"It will do in the morning," he muttered as he turned out the lamp.

CHAPTER XXVIII

May looked up from Ethel's letter with a little cry of indignation.
"Jimmy is engaged to Vera Farlow, Henry! Did you ever hear of such a
thing! It seems the Grimmers have been staying quite close to Jimmy's
cottage, and Ethel had Vera down on purpose--at least I'm sure she did.
I had no idea they had met Jimmy. He never mentioned it in his last
letter, nor did Ethel when I met her in town."

Henry Marlow had put down the evening paper and was staring at his wife
solemnly. He scented trouble, possibly unpleasantness, and he was by no
means sure what course he would