ft me his vast property. I cared only
because it enabled me to withdraw from the profession. I disposed of my
exhibition, or rather I let it go for a song. I simply handed over the
Tattooed Man, the Artillery Twins, and the Double-headed Serpent to the
first-comer, who happened to be a rural dean. Far in the deeps of the
country, near the little town of Roding, on a lonely highway, where no
man ever came, I took a 'pike. Here I dwelt like a hermit, refusing to
give change to the rare passers-by in carts and gigs, and attended by
a handy fellow, William Evans, stolid as the Sphynx, which word, for
reasons that may or may not appear later in this narrative, I prefer to
spell with a _y_, contrary to the best authorities and usual custom.

It was midwinter, and midnight. My room lay in darkness. Heavy snow was
falling. I went to the window and flattened my nose against the pane.

'What,' I asked myself, 'is most like a cat looking out of a window?'

'A cat looking in at a window,' answered a silvery voice from the
darkness.

Flattened against the self-same pane was another nose, a woman's. It was
the lovely organ of mixed architecture belonging to Philippa! With a low
cry of amazement, I broke the pane: it was no idle vision, no case of
the 'horrors;' the cold, cold nose of my Philippa encountered my own.
The ice was now broken; she swept into my chamber, lovelier than ever in
her strange unearthly beauty, and a new sealskin coat. Then she seated
herself with careless grace, tilting back her chair, and resting her
feet on the chimney-piece.

'Dear Philippa,' I exclaimed politely, 'how is your husband?'

'Husband! I have none,' she hissed. 'Tell me, Basil, did you ever hate a
fellow no end?'

'Yes,' I answered, truly; for, like Mr. Carlyle, I just detested most
people, and him who had robbed me of Philippa most of all.

'Do you know what he did, Basil? _He insisted on having a latch-key!_
Did you ever hate a man?'

I threw out my arms. My heart was full of bitterness.

'He did more! He has refused to pay my last quarter's salary. Basil,
didn't you ever hate a man?'

My brain reeled at these repeated outrages.

'And where are you staying at present, Philippa? I hope you are pretty
comfortable?' I inquired, anxiously.

Philippa went on: 'My husband as was has chucked me. I was about to have
a baby. I bored him. I was in the way--in the family-way. Basil, did you
ever hate a fellow? If not, read this letter.'