"What about coming back?" she said. He shook his head. "Not to-night. You have a good rest. That's what you want." "Well, I _am_ done. Meet 'nother night p'raps----" "I hope so," he said politely. He raised his hat and the cab splashed away. "Another cab, sir?" said the commissionaire. "No, thanks," said Breton, and plunged out into the rain. The air was fresh and cool. Streams of water danced and spurted on the gleaming pavements. Breton walked along. The little adventure had swept completely from his mind his earlier desperate decisions. There were still things for him to do! Poor little girl ... he was glad that he had been there! What a fool he had been all these weeks, sitting there, letting himself go to pieces because the world had gone badly! What sort of a creature was he? Well, he was some good yet. Just one twist of the hand and that man had gone down ... Yes, she was grateful.... Her eyes had shone. And what of the candles, his business? Why had he allowed that to drop when he had made, already, so good a start? He would be in the City early to-morrow. Business was humming just now. And Rachel? Rachel! Let him be content to have her as his ideal, his fine beacon to light him on, to hold him to his work and do the best that was in him! After all, things were for the best. They would always have their fine memories, one of the other. Nothing to spoil that idyll. He arrived, soaked to the very skin, at his door. "Funny," he thought, "how that thunder depresses one. I've been moody for weeks. Air's ever so much clearer now. God, didn't that old beast tumble?--Poor little girl--she _was_ grateful though!" Then as he opened the door, he remembered what Christopher had, that evening, told him. "To-morrow," he said to himself, in a fine glow of hope and confidence, "to-morrow I'll get to work and soon stop that wicked old woman's mouth. Rachel--God bless her--I'll show her what I'm like...." He climbed the dark stairs as though he were storming a town. CHAPTER V MARCH 13th: RACHEL'S HEART "When God smote His hands together, and struck out the soul at a spark, Into the organized glory of things, from drops of the dark,-- Say, didst thou shine, didst thou burn, didst thou honour the power in the form, As the star does at night, or the fire-fly, or even the little ground-worm? 'I have sinned,' she said." ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. I Meanwhile Rachel had not spoken to Roddy. Bad though the months had been since that terrible afternoon at Seddon these days that followed the Duchess's visit were the worst that she had ever known.