“That will mean that your—that Mr. Dingle leaves.” “So he should; but he’s just the man not to see it.” “Obviously he must leave, or I must. I bear him a very bitter grudge for his cruelty to you, and I’m not going to pretend that I care about his future.” “I should hope not, Jordan.” “Far from it. Wrong done to you was wrong done to me. At least that is what it amounts to now. My feeling to Dingle will be the feeling of the strong to the weak, Medora. He must go if you wish to stop. Of course I’ve got very different ideas from him.” “I should hope you had.” “For instance, I wouldn’t let my wife work as he let you work.” She yawned presently and he exclaimed that he must not keep her up any longer. “You put everything out of your mind and go to bed,” he advised. “Would you like a cup of tea or anything before you go?” “Not if you wouldn’t,” she said. But he explained that he never took anything after his supper, and that the lighter his last meal, the better he slept. So she left him. He clasped her right hand in both his and shook it affectionately for some seconds; but he did not kiss her. “I shall turn in pretty soon myself,” he said. “But it’s not above ten o’clock yet. I’ll stop here and draft out those letters—that’ll save time to-morrow.” She went upstairs and presently, for curiosity, tried the door between her room and his. It was open and she went in. Through a Venetian blind slants of electric light from the street illuminated the chamber; but that did not show enough, so Medora turned on the light and looked for evidence of Jordan. They were starkly simple: a brush and comb on the dressing table, a shaving brush and a tooth brush and a nail brush and sponge on the washing-stand. Upon his bed lay a night shirt and against the door hung his overcoat and black squash hat and dark blue silk neckerchief. A few newspapers and books on economic and industrial subjects he had also brought. In a drawer of a chest of drawers were some collars and socks and two blue flannel shirts. What Medora expected to see she did not know, but what she did see depressed her. She put out the light and went back to her own room. Then all manners of doubts and wonders occupied her mind and her first purpose was to undress and get into bed as fast as possible before the man came upstairs. She hesitated about locking the door between them and decided to do so. His importunities would be rather delightful and human. For she felt that the humanity of Jordan was what she hungered and thirsted for. She adored his chivalry and wonderful tenderness and forethought; she perceived what a white knight he was—all these manifestations were duly recorded and valued. But now—surely it was her turn to reward a spirit so rare and worthy of reward?