of a possible perfection, distinction within the limits, the
inherent frailties of the type.

In Kitty Tailleur he had found even more than he was looking for. Kitty
had certain graces, reminiscent of the upper world; a heritage from
presumably irreproachable parents, that marked her from the women of her
class. She had, moreover, a way of her own, different from the charm of
the unfallen, different, too, from the coarse lures of the underworld.
Kitty was never rank, never insipid. She had a few light brains in her
body, and knew how to use them, woman-like, for the heightening of her
charm.

There were other good points about Kitty. Marston disliked parting with
his money, and he had found Kitty, so far, inexpensive, as women went.

For these reasons, so many and so plausible that they disguised the true
kind and degree of his subjection, he had before now returned to Kitty
more than once after he thought that he had tired of her.

Only three weeks ago, on her return from Matlock, he judged that he had
come to the end of his passion for her; and here he was again at the
very beginning of it. Instead of perishing it had thrived on absence. He
found himself on the verge of a new and unforeseen adventure, with
impulse sharpened by antagonism and frustration. Yet his only chance, he
knew, was not to be impulsive, but cool rather, calculating and
cautious. The fight he was in for would have to be fought with brains;
his against hers.

He sent a note to her early in the morning asking her to see him at
nine. At nine she saw him.

"I thought," she said, "you were going up to town early."

"I'm not going up to town at all, as it happens, to-day."

"Isn't it rather a pity to neglect your business?"

"My business, dear Kitty, is not any business of yours."

"I'm only trying to make you see that it isn't worth your while stopping
out of town because of me."

He was a little disconcerted at her divination of his motives, her
awareness of her own power.

"Well, you see, though the affairs of Whitehall are not your affairs,
your affairs, unfortunately, are mine; and, since I have to attend to
them, I prefer to do it at once and get it over. I had some talk with
Lucy last night."

She turned on him. "Ah, you _have_ given me away."

"Did you ever know me give any one away?"

She did not answer all at once.

He was shocked at her suspicion; at the things she believed it possible
for a man to do. In the upper world,