of thing."

"I didn't know of this particular thing. She acted as if she had
forgotten him. Perhaps she had, and you woke him up. There are queer
tricks in the world. She is overstrained. She has probably been plotting
ever since you burst in last night."

"Against me?"

"Yes."

Stephen stood irresolute. "I suppose you and she pulled together?" He
said at last.

"Get away from us, man! I mind losing you. Yet it's as well you don't
stop."

"Oh, THAT'S out of the question," said Stephen, brushing his cap.

"If you've guessed anything, I'd be obliged if you didn't mention it.
I've no right to ask, but I'd be obliged."

He nodded, and walked slowly along the landing and down the stairs.
Rickie accompanied him, and even opened the front door. It was as if
Agnes had absorbed the passion out of both of them. The suburb was now
wrapped in a cloud, not of its own making. Sigh after sigh passed along
its streets to break against dripping walls. The school, the houses
were hidden, and all civilization seemed in abeyance. Only the simplest
sounds, the simplest desires emerged. They agreed that this weather was
strange after such a sunset.

"That's a collie," said Stephen, listening.

"I wish you'd have some breakfast before starting."

"No food, thanks. But you know" He paused. "It's all been a muddle, and
I've no objection to your coming along with me."

The cloud descended lower.

"Come with me as a man," said Stephen, already out in the mist. "Not as
a brother; who cares what people did years back? We're alive together,
and the rest is cant. Here am I, Rickie, and there are you, a fair
wreck. They've no use for you here,--never had any, if the truth was
known,--and they've only made you beastly. This house, so to speak, has
the rot. It's common-sense that you should come."

"Stephen, wait a minute. What do you mean?"

"Wait's what we won't do," said Stephen at the gate.

"I must ask--"

He did wait for a minute, and sobs were heard, faint, hopeless,
vindictive. Then he trudged away, and Rickie soon lost his colour and
his form. But a voice persisted, saying, "Come, I do mean it. Come; I
will take care of you, I can manage you."

The words were kind; yet it was not for their sake that Rickie plunged
into the impalpable cloud. In the voice he had found a surer guarantee.
Habits and sex may change with the new generation, features may alter
with the play of a private passion, but a voice is apart from these.