pected to lead a continent life. And he had really loved Lizette; she
was really a good girl. Yet, if Henriette had got any idea of it, she
would have been horrified and indignant--she might even have broken off
the engagement.

And then, too, there was Henriette's father, a personage of great
dignity and importance. M. Loches was a deputy of the French Parliament,
from a district in the provinces. He was a man of upright life, and a
man who made a great deal of that upright life--keeping it on a pedestal
where everyone might observe it. It was impossible to imagine M. Loches
in an undignified or compromising situation--such as the younger man
found himself facing in the matter of Lizette.

The more he thought about it the more nervous and anxious George became.
Then it was decided it would be necessary for him to break with
the girl, and be "good" until the time of his marriage. Dear little
soft-eyed Lizette--he did not dare to face her personally; he could
never bear to say good-by, he felt. Instead, he went to the father,
who as a man could be expected to understand the situation. George was
embarrassed and not a little nervous about it; for although he had never
misrepresented his attitude to the family, one could never feel entirely
free from the possibility of blackmail in such cases. However, Lizette's
father behaved decently, and was duly grateful for the moderate sum of
money which George handed him in parting. He promised to break the news
gently to Lizette, and George went away with his mind made up that he
would never see her again.

This resolution he kept, and he considered himself very virtuous in
doing it. But the truth was that he had grown used to intimacy with a
woman, and was restless without it. And that, he told himself, was why
he yielded to the shameful temptation the night of that fatal supper
party.

He paid for the misadventure liberally in remorse. He felt that he had
been a wretch, that he had disgraced himself forever, that he had proved
himself unworthy of the pure girl he was to marry. So keen was his
feeling that it was several days before he could bring himself to see
Henriette again; and when he went, it was with a mind filled with a
brand-new set of resolutions. It was the last time that he would ever
fall into error. He would be a new man from then on. He thanked God
that there was no chance of his sin being known, that he might have an
opportunity to prove his new determination.