She passed through a moment of positive fear and repulsion, and instinctively her thoughts turned to Tony. After all, was she not rushing into a battle in which she must fall conquered. She could please men--that she knew well--but could she do anything else in life? She was so accustomed to wealth and ease and comfort now. What could she do without it? Would the time ever come when she would despairingly view this hour, when she wilfully abandoned what certainly appeared the flowery track through life, with its luxury, elegance, leisure for higher pursuits, its surroundings of grace and beauty that she appreciated so fully, and that only money--ill-gotten or otherwise--can procure? But the pride and purity of the spirit forbade any real faltering in her resolve. Thousands of other girls lived--contentedly enough she hoped and supposed--upon the market value of their poor little capacities. Upon what grounds was she to be held different? Young and strong, why should not she work as well as others? She felt she ought to be ashamed of herself. She shut her eyes so that she should no longer see the tempting wealth and elegance she was abandoning. Coloured spirals seemed to whirl in the darkness, and the ensuing giddiness reminded her of her smelling-salts. She slipped the bottle into her hand-bag, then resolved not to sit down again, but to go. She had never before taken a railway journey alone, and must allow ample time for contingencies. It was getting on for five o'clock. The time was ripe. She crept from her room, and very softly, with many a pause to listen, proceeded to unfasten all hindering chains and locks. But no sound was heard within the sleeping flat, and undisturbed she gained the outer air. Morris lay wrapped in slumber, all unconscious that the child he had received at her dying father's hands, innocent and wholly dependent on his honour, was now stealing forth homeless into the chill morning, broken-hearted, with a sullied story, and but a few pounds between herself and utter destitution. Nor, had he known, would it have caused him any serious pangs of remorse. The pride of spirit, the refinement of sentiment, that forbade her to take away any of the valuable gifts he had lavished upon her, was totally beyond his comprehension. He could see that it was a pretty enough conceit in theory, perchance, but such a piece of high-faluting foolishness put into practice was, to his mind, quite sufficient to deprive her of the sympathy of all rational beings. In some peculiar manner the fact that any immediate pecuniary difficulties would be entirely of her own making, was in his mind all-sufficient to absolve him from entire blame in the whole affair.