Mr. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. There are many things which I do not understand. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Suddenly he understood what had happened. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger.
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