He could not proclaim himself an enemy to Greshamsbury; and yet he felt that fealty to Mary required of him that, for the present, he should put on an enemy's guise.
"If you want me, Lady Arabella, and send for me, I will come to you; otherwise I will, if you please, share the sentence which has been passed on Mary.

I will now wish you good morning." And then bowing low to her, he left the room and the house, and sauntered slowly away to his own home.
What was he to say to Mary?
He walked very slowly down the Greshamsbury avenue, with his hands clasped behind his back, thinking over the whole matter; thinking of it, or rather trying to think of it.

When a man's heart is warmly concerned in any matter, it is almost useless for him to endeavour to think of it.

Instead of thinking, he gives play to his feelings, and feeds his passion by indulging it.

"Allurements!" he said to himself, repeating Lady Arabella's words.