and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the
first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded
an Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily
married who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's
glorious return; and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a
bored smile saw nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic
Felicities. Oh, Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little
plot?

Hallo!

No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she
was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her
covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable,
set off nervously on some mysterious adventure.

"The deuce!" thought I, and followed her.

Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her
watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do
not give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once
she kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little
watch, which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but
why kiss it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in
your leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or
any day, the watch your husband gave you?

It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts
to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination,
a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly
and shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of
shame; and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary
A----. Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would
have felled her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was
waiting for him, wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I
believe I clutched my stick.

Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there
was some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her
husband, as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and
was ashamed to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be
to save, not herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have
been Mary's. Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy
from the consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here?
Could that laugh of his have survive