It was very late, but sleep was impossible, and picking up his hat and stick he whistled to Sandy and the two went out into the almost deserted streets. The dog leaped about him with quick, joyous barks, rejoicing in the unexpected outing, and Fox turned his face northward, walking steadily along the brilliantly lighted and strangely quiet avenue which led him through the heart of the northwest section and up on the hill. The tumult of his mind found relief in the physical exercise and the fresh cold air of an early April night. In spite of that central egotism of his, which was capable of much when unkindly stirred, Fox believed that he possessed strong convictions on the nicer points of honor. If he had drifted often to White’s house and been much in Margaret’s society it was with no intention of offending against his host. His indolence, his carelessness of what was mere gossip and tittle-tattle, had made him indifferent to the conclusions of others, but he was not unaware of the talk and the surmises of his enemies; he was not unaware that Margaret stood on delicate ground and that, if she separated from White, there would be a wild burst of excited comment--the comment which costs a woman her good name. Such being the case she had suddenly thrown herself upon his sympathy, she had torn away the thin veil of conventionality which had saved them, and it was for him to desert her or to defend her when the supreme moment came. That moment would involve not only his own happiness but--he paused in his thoughts with a shock of feeling which flooded his consciousness with a lucidity, an insight, which appalled him. Was he mistaken, or did it also involve the happiness of the young and innocent girl whom he loved? At the thought of Rose his heart sank; he felt instinctively her abhorrence, her complete lack of understanding of his peculiar situation. To Rose’s mind, doubtless, he would appear in the likeness of Mephistopheles! Good God, what would she think of him? he thought; but yesterday he had held her hand, looked into her pure, young eyes, almost spoken the final words which would have laid bare his very soul--and now! He seemed to feel the heated, perfumed atmosphere, the pressure of Margaret’s fingers on his arm, her wild, sweet smile when she proclaimed her love for him without shame--how vividly he saw it! And her absolute belief in his unchanged love for her! Infatuation, madness, self-deception, it might be all these and more, but she was a woman--and she had flung herself upon his mercy! As yet that other aspect of the affair, the blighting of his public career which such a scandal might in a measure effect, had not thrust itself upon him; his only thought was for Rose. In that hour he learned how profoundly he loved her; it was part of his nature that the very denial of a gift increased his desire to obtain it.