"Always thinking of your duty!" murmured Aunt admiringly. "If I wrote to his firm about it," said Charlie's wife, "they would dismiss him." "Ah! and he sends you his pay, you say?" said Uncle Henry, seizing the point like a business man. "What a position for a conscientious woman like you!" mourned Aunt. "You are quite right, my dear," said Uncle Henry. "You have three children and no other means of sustenance, and you cannot afford to do as I should otherwise advise you." "Besides, he will come back," said Charlie's wife gently. "Men are soon sickened of these women." "Of course," agreed Aunt. "Well! Well!" said Uncle Henry, "you are very magnanimous, my dear, and one day Charles will fully appreciate it. And I hope he will be duly thankful to you for your great goodness. Yes! You will soon have Master Charles creeping back, very ashamed of himself, and when he comes, I for one, intend to give him the biggest talking to he has ever had in his life. But I really think the Vicar too, should be told, in confidence, so that he may decide upon the right course of action for himself." "Because he could not allow your husband to communicate, my love," said Aunt, "without being sure of his genuine repentance." "I have been thinking of that too," said Charlie's wife. "It would not be right." "I wonder what he feels about himself, when he remembers his dear little children," said Aunt. "Maud nearly old enough to understand, and all!" So they lay for Charlie, while he basked and thrived in the abyss of the lotus-flower; and the L160 dwindled. It was towards the end of the second month that Charlie sensed a new element in his precarious dream. All day when he was out, thinking of Kitty through the routine of his work, he had no idea of what she was doing. Sometimes he was afraid to think of what she might be doing, and for fear of shattering the dream, he never dared to ask. Always she was sweet and joyful towards him--save for petulant quarrels she raised as if to make the ensuing sweetness and joyfulness the dearer--until towards the close of the second month. Then one evening she was distrait; one evening, critical; one night, cold; then she had a dinner and dance engagement at the Savoy. Then he knew that his time had come. He waited up for her. He had the gas fire lighted in the tiny sitting-room, and little sugary cakes and wine on the table; and the gas fire lighted in the bedroom to warm it for her, and the bed turned down, and her nightgown and slippers, so frail, warming before the fire. But he knew. In the early dawn her key clicked in the lock, and she came in, followed by a man. He was pale, sensual, moneyed, fashionable. Charlie got up stoutly; but he was already beaten. The Jew looked at him, and turned to Kitty. "I told you," she said, stammering a little, "I told you how it was. By to-morrow ... I told you...." "I'll come again, to-morrow, then," said the man very meaningly, "fetch you out----"