"Yes, I think you're right. All this place is full of memories of her; I hear her voice--as child or woman--wherever I turn; her light feet tread all the road beside me where I walk; the very moon shines as calmly down upon me as when we walked together--lovers. Don't think I'm saying anything against her; perhaps I've even been coward enough to hug my pain a little, because the pain has been so sweet. Give me your hand, old friend; I promise--there, I'll swear if you like--that I'll try to put it all aside. I can't forget it; that's quite another matter; but I'll put it away from me and be a little braver about it. There's my hand on it." "That's well," said the captain, gripping his hand. "I'm sorry to send you away, but I think you know it's best, don't you?" "Yes, you're right. I must find some work to do; I have been an idle dog too long. Come, let's go home." Yet even in London he could not keep away from her; he thought of her when he woke in the morning, and breathed her name when he lay down to rest at night. He found his way one night to the little house they had taken in Chelsea; longed to go in, in a natural fashion, yet dared not trust himself. Once or twice he turned resolutely to go away, and then came back again, and lingered still. At last, when it was getting late, the door was opened and he saw, from his position on the opposite side of the street, his Uncle Robert Carlaw standing within the hall, lighting a cigar; saw him set his hat at the proper angle, and come swinging out into the street. Comethup had no particular wish to meet him, and only wondered a little, in his own mind, under what circumstances he had returned to his son's house. He was just walking away in good earnest, when Mr. Robert Carlaw crossed the street, recognised him, and came breathlessly after him. Comethup faced about and pretended not to notice the other's outstretched hand. "Ah! my dear boy, I see we do not meet on the old cordial footing. Well, it has been my fate through life to be misjudged; to be met with scorn when I craved only sympathy; to have every action of mine misunderstood, every word misinterpreted. Don't turn away from me, I beg; let me explain, let me appeal to you." Comethup had stopped, and stood looking at him coldly. "There certainly seems to be the need for some explanation," he said. "I suppose you will not deny that you deceived me; that the money I placed in your hands, at your request, to help Brian and--and his wife, never reached them?"