"I apologize for having lost my self-control--I am ashamed of that--and do not ask you to forgive me--Your staying or not is a business arrangement. I give you my word I will try never to be so weak again." She was gazing at me--For once I had taken the wind out of her sails--. Then I bowed and hobbled on into my bedroom, shutting the door after me. Here my courage deserted me. I got to the bed with difficulty and threw myself down upon it and lay there, too filled with emotion to stir. The thought tormenting me always. Have I burnt my boats--or is this only the beginning of a new stage? Time will tell. XIV I lay and wondered and wondered what were Alathea's emotions after I left her. Should I ever know? When the hour was up I went back into the sitting-room. I had struggled against the awful depression which was overcoming me. I suppose every man has committed some action he is sorry and ashamed of, forced thereto by some emotion, either of anger or desire, which has been too strong for his will to control--. This is the way murders must often have been committed, and other crimes--I had not the slightest intention of behaving like a cad--or of doing anything which I knew would probably part us forever.--If my insult had been deliberate or planned, I would have held her longer, and knowing I was going to lose her by my action, I would have profited by it. As I lay on my bed in great pain from the wrench in getting there alone--I tried to analyse things. The nervous excitement in which she always plunges me must have come to the culminating point. The only thing I was glad about was that I had not attempted to ask forgiveness, or to palliate my conduct. If I had done so she would undoubtedly have walked straight out of the hotel--but having just had the sense to leave her to think for a while--perhaps--? Well--I was sitting in my chair--feeling some kind of numb anguish--which I suppose those going to be hanged experience, when Burton brought in my tea--and I heard no sound of clicking next door--I asked him as naturally as I could if Miss Sharp had gone--. "Yes, Sir Nicholas," he answered, and the shock, even though it was expected, was so great that for a second I closed my eye. She had left a note, he further added,--putting the envelope down on the table beside the tray--. I made myself light a cigarette and not open it, and I made myself say casually-- "I am afraid she feels her brother's death dreadfully, Burton!" "The poor young lady, Sir Nicholas!--She must have kept up brave like all the time this morning, and then after lunch when I come in--while you were resting, Sir--it got too much for her, I expect, sittin' alone--for she was sobbin' like to break her heart--as I opened the door. She looked that forlorn and huddled up--give you my word, Sir Nicholas--I was near blubberin' myself." "I am so awfully sorry--What did you do, Burton?"