"But there is always a ghastly depression dragging one back here--and then the time is so short; just as one gets into the swing of it the breakfast bell rings, and then comes--" He broke off.
I could well supply the end of the sentence, however, for I knew that then came the slow torture of a tete-a-tete day with the Major, stinging sarcasms, humiliating scoldings, vexations and difficulties innumerable.
I drew him to the left, having no mind to go to the top of the hill.
We slackened our pace again and walked to and fro along the broad level pavement of Lansdowne Crescent.

We had it entirely to ourselves--not another creature was in sight.
"I could bear it all," he burst forth, "if only there was a chance of seeing Freda.

Oh, you are better off than I am--at least, you know the worst.

Your hope is killed, but mine lives on a tortured, starved life! Would to God I had never seen her!" Certainly before that night I had never quite realised the irrevocableness of poor Derrick's passion.

I had half hoped that time and separation would gradually efface Freda Merrifield from his memory; and I listened with a dire foreboding to the flood of wretchedness which he poured forth as we paced up and down, thinking now and then how little people guessed at the tremendous powers hidden under his usually quiet exterior.
At length he paused, but his last heart-broken words seemed to vibrate in the air and to force me to speak some kind of comfort.
"Derrick," I said, "come back with me to London--give up this miserable life." I felt him start a little; evidently no thought of yielding had come to him before.