"Shall I come round to you ?" he asked, her back being towards him.
"No," she replied.
"Why not ?" "Because I am crying, and I don't want to see you." He stood a moment irresolute, and regretted that he had killed the rosy, passionate lamplight by opening the curtains and letting in garish day.
"Then I am going," he said.
"Very well," she answered, stretching one hand round to him, and patting her eyes with a handkerchief held in the other.
"Shall I write a line to you at--" "No, no." A gentle reasonableness came into her tone as she added, "It must not be, you know.

It won't do." "Very well.

Good-by." The next moment he was gone.
In the evening, with listless adroitness, she encouraged the maid who dressed her for dinner to speak of Dr.Fitzpiers's marriage.
"Mrs.Fitzpiers was once supposed to favor Mr.Winterborne," said the young woman.
"And why didn't she marry him ?" said Mrs.Charmond.
"Because, you see, ma'am, he lost his houses." "Lost his houses?
How came he to do that ?" "The houses were held on lives, and the lives dropped, and your agent wouldn't renew them, though it is said that Mr.Winterborne had a very good claim.

That's as I've heard it, ma'am, and it was through it that the match was broke off." Being just then distracted by a dozen emotions, Mrs.Charmond sunk into a mood of dismal self-reproach.

"In refusing that poor man his reasonable request," she said to herself, "I foredoomed my rejuvenated girlhood's romance.