'There were faults on both sides. On every side,' he added, 'for I don't exempt mother from blame either. She was always too hard upon you. Now, I should never have minded your going to the theatre and amusing yourself. I shouldn't have minded your being an actress, and I should have gone to fetch you home every evening.' Kate smiled through her misery, and he continued, following his idea to the end: 'It wouldn't have interfered with the business if you had been; on the contrary, it would have brought us a connection, and I might have had up those plate-glass windows, and taken in the fruiterer's shop.' Ralph stopped. The roar of London had sunk out of hearing in the yellow depths of the fog, and for some minutes nothing was heard but the short ticking of the clock. It was a melancholy pleasure to dream what might have been had things only taken a different turn, and like children making mud-pies it amused them to rebuild the little fabric of their lives; whilst one reconstructed his vision of broken glass, the other lamented over the ruins of penny journal sentiment. Then awakening by fits and starts, each confided in the other. Ralph told Kate how Mrs. Ede had spoken of her when her flight had been discovered; Kate tried to explain that she was not as much to blame as might be imagined. Ralph's curiosity constantly got the better of him, and he couldn't but ask her to tell him something about her stage experience. One thing led to another, and before twelve o'clock it surprised her to think she had told him so much. The conversation was carried on in brief and broken phrases. The man and the woman sat close together shivering over the fire. There were no curtains to the windows, and the fog had crept through the sashes into the room. Kate coughed from time to time--a sharp, hacking cough--and Ralph's wheezing grew thicker in sound. 'I'm a-fraid I shall have a b-bad night, this dre-ad-ful weather.' 'I should like to stop to nurse you; but I must be getting home.' 'You surely won't think of going out such a night as this; you'll never find your way home.' 'Yes, yes, I shall; it wouldn't do for me to remain here.' They who had once been husband and wife looked at each other, and both smiled painfully. 'Ve-ry well, I'll see you do-wnstairs.' 'Oh no! you mustn't, you'll kill yourself!' Ralph, however, insisted. They stood on the doorstep for a moment together, suffocating in a sulphur-hued atmosphere. 'You'll come a-nd and see me again to-to-morrow, won't you?' 'Yes, yes!' cried Kate; 'to-morrow! to-morrow!' and she disappeared in the darkness. XXX But on the morrow she could not leave her room, and at the end of the week the news at the Bedford Hotel was that Mr. Ede had gone away the day before without leaving any message.