" Carefully depositing Winifred on a sofa, Jack then extinguished the light, and, as he unfastened the door, crept behind it. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. He had taken it back. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. ’ A grimace crossed her face. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction.
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