Half an hour had not elapsed since he had watched Unorna driving away from the cemetery and had inwardly determined that he would never, if possible, set eyes on her again.

Scarcely two hours earlier, he had been speaking to her of the sincere friendship which he felt was growing up for her in his heart.
Since then he had learned, almost beyond the possibility of a doubt, that she loved him, and he had learned, too, to despise her, he had left her meaning that the parting should be final, and now he was hurrying to her house to give her the warning which alone could save her from destruction.

And yet, he found it impossible to detect any inconsistency in his own conduct.

As he had been conscious of doing his utmost to save Israel Kafka from her, so now he knew that he was doing all he could to save Unorna from the Moravian, and he recognised the fact that no man with the commonest feelings of humanity could have done less in either case.

But he was conscious, also, of a change in himself which he did not attempt to analyse.