"He isn't good-looking," said Frank, reflectively, "a broken nose, a chin thrust forward, and a mop of brown curls twisted over his forehead. Give me a pencil, and I'll do his caricature." "Every one says the same thing. The girls in the theatre all say, 'What in the world do you see in him?' I tell them that if he chose--if he were to make up to them a bit, they'd go after him just the same as I did. There's a little girl in the chorus, and she trots about after him; she can't help it. There are times when I don't care for him. What riles me is to see other women messing him about." "I suppose it is some sort of magnetism, electro-biology, and he can't help exercising it any more than you women can resist it. Tell me, how did he leave you?" "Without a word or a penny. One night he didn't come home, and I sat up for him, and I don't know how many nights after. I used to doze off and awake up with a start, thinking I heard his footstep on the landing. I went down to Waterloo Bridge to drown myself. I don't know why I didn't; I almost wish I had, although I have got on pretty well since, and get a pretty tidy weekly screw." "What do you get?" "Three ten. Mine's a singing part. Waiter, some cheese and celery." "What a blackguard he is! I'll never speak to him again; he shall edit my paper no more. To-night I'll give him the dirty kick-out." Mike remained the topic of conversation until Lottie said-- "Good Lord, I must be 'getting'--it is past seven o'clock." Frank paid her modest bill, and still discussing Mike, they walked to the stage-door. Quick with desire to possess Lizzie wholly beyond recall, and obfuscated with notions concerning the necessity of placing women in surroundings in harmony with their natural goodness, Frank walked by his mistress's side. At the end of a long silence, she said-- "That's the way you'll desert me one of these days. All men are brutes." "No, darling, they are not. If you'll act fairly by me, I will by you--I'll never desert you." Lizzie did not answer. "You don't think me a brute like that fellow Fletcher, do you?" "I don't think there's much difference between any of you." Frank ground his teeth, and at that moment he only desired one thing--to prove to Lizzie that men were not all vile and worthless. They had turned into the Temple; the old places seemed dozing in the murmuring quietude of the evening. Mike was coming up the pathway, his dress-clothes distinct in the delicate gray light, his light-gray overcoat hanging over his arm.