covered that fancy sooner our life at the Temple must the sooner have come to an end.
I turned to wondering what she was doing, and where she had gone. I had very little fear that, for all her beauty, she would come to any harm, for besides her earlier experience of London, she had learned a good deal more of life from us during the last months; her housekeeping had taught her the price of things; she had a balance of nearly twenty pounds in the bank; and that I could replenish. I began to wonder how long it would be before her anger cooled, and she let me know where she was. Then of a sudden an ugly doubt whether she would let me know where she was, at any rate for some time, chilled me. Knowing her as I did, I saw that though her anger might cool, her pride might very well keep her hiding away from me. I thrust the hateful thought away, and assured myself that things would not turn out as bad as that. I fell to regretting that she should be away from me and unhappy. A flight to solitude is no way to deal with unhappiness. Then I got gloomily to my work.
I did but little, and that bad. At one I went off to the club to lunch, with a strong sense of relief at leaving my desolate—desolate was the word—rooms. I had found Angel's absence distressing when she went away to attend to Mrs. Jubb; but then I had been sure of her quick return; this was
