r had not been walking by the Row very long
before, lifting his eyes, he saw a young man approaching. The young man
was not attired as he ought to have been: he wore a light suit, a
dissolute necktie, and a soft wideawake crammed down low on his head.
He had obviously forsworn the vanities of the world and was wearing the
willow. He came up to Calder and held out his hand.

"Wentworth," he said, "I left you rudely the other day. I was doing you
an injustice. I have heard the truth from Mrs. Blunt. You are free from
all blame. We--we are fellow-sufferers."

His tones were so mournful that Calder shook his hand with warm
sympathy, and remarked, "Pretty rough, on us both, ain't it?"

"For me," declared Charlie, "everything is over. My trust in woman is
destroyed; my pleasure in life is--"

"Well, I don't feel A1 myself, old chap," said Calder.

"I have written to--to her, to say good-by."

"No, have yon, though?"

"What else could I do? Wentworth, do you suppose that, even if she was
free, I would think of her for another moment? Can there be love where
there is no esteem, no trust, no confidence?"

"I was just thinking that when you came up," said Calder.

"No, at whatever cost, I--every self-respecting man--must consider
first of all what he owes to his name, to his family, to
his--Wentworth, to his unborn children."

Calder nodded.

"You, of course," pursued Charlie, "will be guided by your own
judgment. As to that, the circumstances seal my lips."

"I don't like it, you know," said Calder.

"As regards you, she may or may not have excuses. I don't know; but she
wilfully and grossly deceived me. I have done with her."

"Gad, I believe you're right, Merceron, old chap! A chap ought to stand
up for himself, by Jove! You'd never feel safe with her, would you, by
Jove?"

"Good-by," said Charlie suddenly. "I leave Paddington by the 4.15."

"Where are you off to?"

"Hell--I mean home," answered Charlie.

Calder beat his stick against his leg.

"I can't stay here either," he said moodily.

Charlie stretched out his hand again.

"Come with me," said he.

"Eh? what?"

"Come with me; we'll forget her together."

Calder looked at him.

"Well, you are a good chap. Dashed if I don't. Yes, I will. We'll enjoy
ourselves like thunder. But I say, Merceron, I--I ought to write to
her, oughtn't I?"

"I am just going to write myself."

"To--to say good-by, eh?"

"Yes."

"I shall write and break it of