Therefore it didn’t seem to him, under his stress, to matter particularly, for instance, if she _would_ keep on referring so many things to the time, as she called it, when she came into his life--his own great insistence and contention being that she hadn’t in the least entered there till his mind was wholly made up to eliminate his other friend. What that methodical fury was so fierce to bring home to him was the falsity to herself involved in the later acquaintance; whereas just his precious right to hold up his head to everything--before himself at least--sprang from the fact that she couldn’t make dates fit anyhow. He hadn’t so much as heard of his true beauty’s existence (she had come back but a few weeks before from her two years with her terribly trying deceased aunt at Swindon, previous to which absence she had been an unnoticeable chit) till days and days, ever so many, upon his honour, after he had struck for freedom by his great first backing-out letter--the precious document, the treat for a British jury, in which, by itself, Miss Cookham’s firm instructed her to recognise the prospect of a fortune. The way the ruffians had been “her” ruffians--it appeared as if she had posted them behind her from the first of her beginning her game!--and the way “instructions” bounced out, with it, at a touch, larger than life, as if she had arrived with her pocket full of them! The date of the letter, taken with its other connections, and the date of _her_ first give-away for himself, his seeing her get out of the Brighton train with Bill Frankle that day he had gone to make the row at the Station parcels’ office about the miscarriage of the box from Wales--those were the facts it sufficed him to point to, as he had pointed to them for Nan Drury’s benefit, goodness knew, often and often enough. If he didn’t seek occasion to do so for any one else’s--in open court as they said--that was his own affair, or at least his and Nan’s. It little mattered, meanwhile, if on their bench of desolation, all that summer--and it may be added for summers and summers, to say nothing of winters, there and elsewhere, to come--she did give way to her artless habit of not contradicting him enough, which led to her often trailing up and down before him, too complacently, the untimely shreds and patches of his own glooms and desperations. “Well, I’m glad I _am_ in your life, terrible as it is, however or whenever I did come in!” and “_Of course_ you’d rather have starved--and it seems pretty well as if we shall, doesn’t it?--than have bought her off by a false, abhorrent love, wouldn’t you?” and “It isn’t as if she hadn’t made up to you the way she did before you had so much as looked at her, is it? or as if you hadn’t shown her what you felt her really to be before you had so much as looked at _me_, is it either?” and “Yes, how on earth, pawning the shoes on your feet, you’re going to raise another shilling--_that’s_ what you want to know, poor darling, don’t you?”