Calder felt a sudden impulse to disclose to Lord Thrapston his secret opinion of him, and he recollected, with a pang, that in the course of so doing he would have to touch on more than one characteristic shared by the old man and Agatha. Where were his visions of a quiet home in the country, of freedom from the irksome duties of society, of an obedient and devoted wife, surrounded by children and flanked by jampots? He had once painted this picture for Agatha, shortly after she had agreed to that arrangement which she declined to call a promise of marriage; and it occurred to him now that she had allowed the subject to drop without any expression of concurrence. He took leave of Lord Thrapston and went for a solitary walk. He wanted to think. But the position of affairs was such that other persons also felt the need of reflection, and Calder had not been walking by the Row very long before, lifting his eyes, he saw a young man approaching. The young man was not attired as he ought to have been: he wore a light suit, a dissolute necktie, and a soft wideawake crammed down low on his head. He had obviously forsworn the vanities of the world and was wearing the willow. He came up to Calder and held out his hand. "Wentworth," he said, "I left you rudely the other day. I was doing you an injustice. I have heard the truth from Mrs. Blunt. You are free from all blame. We--we are fellow-sufferers." His tones were so mournful that Calder shook his hand with warm sympathy, and remarked, "Pretty rough, on us both, ain't it?" "For me," declared Charlie, "everything is over. My trust in woman is destroyed; my pleasure in life is--" "Well, I don't feel A1 myself, old chap," said Calder. "I have written to--to her, to say good-by." "No, have yon, though?" "What else could I do? Wentworth, do you suppose that, even if she was free, I would think of her for another moment? Can there be love where there is no esteem, no trust, no confidence?" "I was just thinking that when you came up," said Calder. "No, at whatever cost, I--every self-respecting man--must consider first of all what he owes to his name, to his family, to his--Wentworth, to his unborn children." Calder nodded. "You, of course," pursued Charlie, "will be guided by your own judgment. As to that, the circumstances seal my lips." "I don't like it, you know," said Calder. "As regards you, she may or may not have excuses. I don't know; but she wilfully and grossly deceived me. I have done with her." "Gad, I believe you're right, Merceron, old chap! A chap ought to stand up for himself, by Jove! You'd never feel safe with her, would you, by Jove?" "Good-by," said Charlie suddenly. "I leave Paddington by the 4.15." "Where are you off to?" "Hell--I mean home," answered Charlie. Calder beat his stick against his leg. "I can't stay here either," he said moodily. Charlie stretched out his hand again. "Come with me," said he. "Eh? what?" "Come with me; we'll forget her together."