Paul rose.
Somehow, it appeared to him that the room looked more faded and forgotten than when he entered it, and the figure of the man before him more lonely, helpless, and abandoned.

With one of his sympathetic impulses he said:-- "I don't like to leave you here alone.

Are you sure you can help yourself without George?
Can I do anything before I go ?" "I am quite accustomed to it," said Pendleton, quietly.

"It happens once or twice a year, and when I go out--well--I miss more than I do here." He took Paul's proffered hand mechanically, with a slight return of the critical, doubting look he had cast upon him when he entered.

His voice, too, had quite recovered its old dominance, as he said, with half-patronizing conventionality, "You'll have to find your way out alone.