True--most sadly true. But what of that? Was Tom not her lover?--and was he going to die of hunger? Did he not think he could get enough money somehow to keep him from falling by the way? No doubt. But she had been tenderly, luxuriously brought up. He had no means of keeping her in any such position as she had all along in life enjoyed. But he could get bread? Not literally only bread, but as much as they paid a gamekeeper or a groom? Oh, nonsense! Of course he could. But gentlefolk could not live on the wages of a gamekeeper or a groom. Did he love her? Very much. But a gamekeeper got no more---- Than a roof, and clothes, and food, and--love. How much did he love her? Oh, better than anything else in the world. Well, then, let him take time and look around him, and get house, and clothes, and food such as gamekeepers and grooms may have. Those would be his contributions to their lives. She would supply the love. But lady and gentleman could not live in such a way. Why not? He was a gentleman, and she was a lady, and poverty could take none of these poor possessions away, any more than riches could create them. Let him get a gamekeeper's wages, and she would share them with him, and give him all her love, every day renewed. But---- Ah! Then all she had to give was not worth as much to him as a gamekeeper valued his own wife at. Good-bye. The air was damp, and this wood was chilly. Yes, it looked as if it were going to rain. She would not leave him thus. She would say good-bye to him, and give him one kiss at parting. She would say good-bye, and he might have as many kisses as he cared for, provided she got soon away--for it was going to rain. No man had ever kissed her but him. Kisses did not mean anything, or words either. Why did he draw back? She told him he might kiss her if he chose. Any man might kiss her now. Kisses or words did not mean anything. Well, good-bye. Whither was he going? It would surely rain. Whither, did he say? "To hell!" "No, not there. You are a gentleman, and gentlemen do not go there; only gamekeepers and grooms--and women such as I." She walked slowly away through the moist wood in the drizzling rain. He felt sorely sorry and hurt, and ill-used by fate; but he had a gay disposition, and was no dreamer. Besides, he was a man of the world, and devilishly pressed for money just then; so he took Louis Davenport's thousand pounds and went away. After a while she married the odd, rich, old bachelor, Louis Davenport (she did not care what man kissed her now), and he took her away to Kilcash House, and although he never laid any restraint upon her, she knew he did not care that she should go much abroad; so she lived almost wholly in the house, and rarely went out alone, and never had any guest at the place.