He had been growing more used to his shackles, more able to think calmly of life with Fulvia, more ready to depend upon Fulvia for companionship and interest. Now all was altered. Fulvia knew it, and she knew that she had only herself to blame. But she could not resolve to give him up; oven though she had come to the belief that Nigel himself was willing to part. That which would have been the more dignified step was to her impossible. Fulvia did not know how to live without Nigel. If he gave her up, pride might step in to her aid. To take the initiative herself required a different kind of resolution; and Fulvia had it not. Through the week following that unhappy day she was perpetually looking forward to the next Saturday afternoon. She built her hopes on the quiet tête-à-tête walk, wherein she might be able to break through this barrier, to win her way back to him again. She did not know exactly what to say or how to say it; but she was resolved to lead him to the subject of the postscript, to explain how, after the first wrong step, she had been entangled by her fears in a crooked path, to appeal to his pity, to make out somehow a better case for herself. Saturday came, and at breakfast Nigel said, "I am afraid I shall not be much in to-day." Fulvia gave him a startled look. "Where are you going?" asked Daisy. "Malcolm and I talk of a row on the river." "That will be jolly! You have not been on the river for ever so long. Only you two? Will Ethel go?" "No." "When do you start?" Fulvia inquired, trying to speak indifferently. "Half-past two or three." "And you will be home—?" "I don't know when. Not till late in the afternoon." He did not seem to think she could object, and Fulvia would show no annoyance. Indeed, her feeling was far deeper than annoyance. Daisy offered herself as a companion in Nigel's absence; but Fulvia could stand no companionship. She wanted to be alone; and to sit indoors was impossible. Daisy's offer was evaded; and somewhat later Fulvia slipped out of the house, unseen, for a solitary ramble. Nigel had spoken of going down the river, and Fulvia made her way to the towing-path, following the same direction, not with any expectation of seeing him. She meant to be at home in time for his return. It was a beautiful afternoon, very different from the preceding Saturday. A blaze of sunshine lit up all around, but could not chase away the shadows in Fulvia's heart. "Will he ever feel the same for me again?" she asked herself drearily. "How could Daisy be so cruel as to tell him? But she did not mean to be cruel. She does not understand." Fulvia would not be unjust, even in her pain; and she had noticed Daisy's air of anxious kindness this week, a manner as of one trying to make up for some wrong done to another. Fulvia walked slowly, for there was no need to hasten. She could be as long as she liked.