"You impute evil to me—I know you do," said Madeleine, beginning to cry; "but it is your own coarse mind that sees wickedness in everything."
"Possibly," said John. "When do you expect Archie?"
"Any moment. I wish he was here, that he might tell you——"
"Thank you, that will do. You can go now."
He opened the door. She drew a long cloak over her shoulders and passed him without speaking, looking like what she was—one of that class whose very existence she professed to ignore, but whose ranks she had virtually joined when she announced her engagement to Sir Henry in the Morning Post. Perhaps, inasmuch as that, untempted, she had sold herself for diamonds and position, instead of, under strong temptation, for the bare necessities of life like her poorer sisters, she was more degraded than they; but fortunately for her, and many others in our midst, society upheld her.
John looked after her and then followed her. There was not a soul on the common staircase or in the hall. He passed out just behind her, and they were in the street together.
"Take my arm," he said, and she took it mechanically.
He signalled a four-wheeler and helped her into it.
"Where do you wish to go?" he said.
"I don't know," she said feebly, apparently too much scared to remember what her arrangements had been.