He put his arm on his shoulder, and Gobion drew nearer, shaking with emotion. "I've been always thinking of you," said Scott. "It's been so lonely without you--so dull and lonely--we all miss you so. They said at Oxford that you'd been mixed up in some beastly newspaper scandal, but I knew of course that you'd rather die than do anything like that. I've been horribly afraid for you. You see, I couldn't find out where you'd got to or anything. You look terribly ill, old man; you must come out of this hole. Come away with me to-morrow, and when you're better you can make a new start." "It's no use," said Gobion, "I'm finished--mind and body." "Rot, old man! you're only rather pippy. Don't you know you've _always_ got me? Don't you remember how once for a joke in those Ship Street rooms you made me put my hands between yours and swear to be your man? Well, it wasn't a joke--to me. Don't you know how we all love you? Fancy your being here, you who used to lead us all. Damn it all, what gaudy nonsense I'm talking!" His rather commonplace face shone strangely. He seemed to change the mean aspect of the room, to annihilate its sordidness. Late at night Scott went back to his hotel, promising to be round first thing in the morning to take Gobion away. They parted at the door with a long hand-grip, and never met again in this world. When he had gone Gobion went back to his room and fell like a log on to the floor, lying there motionless till the grey light crept into the court. Then he got up and swiftly packed a small bag, his face white and drawn. He went into the next room. The lamp was still burning, and old Mr. Belper lay in a drunken sleep on the bed. His mouth was open, and he breathed heavily. Gobion woke him. "I've come to say good-bye," he said. "What! has it come to that?" "Yes." The old man stared heavily. "Well, good-bye," he said. "I shan't be very long either. I'm glad we've met. I, ahem, I--er"--he coughed--"I congratulate you." He passed his dirty hand over his eyes. "Yes, I--er--congratulate you. I wish--I'll see you out." He came to the front door. They shook hands. "Good-bye," he said, "good-bye, dear boy." He stood on the steps, a fat, grotesque figure, and watched Gobion's slim form disappear in the fog--a dirty, shameless old man. CHAPTER VIII. _THE FINAL POSE._ He felt that the time had come at last. What in his misery he had thought vaguely possible now loomed close before. With the resolve to make an end of it all, to have done with pain, to cheat the inevitable, came a flood of relief. The torture of his brain was swept away as if it had not been, and its receding tide left only a shallow residuum of false sentiment. The poor fool busied himself with details and accessories. Since he had come to the point, he resolved that he would pose to the last. He began to play his old trick of exciting a diseased duality of consciousness.