Self would triumph, and Ida, if the fates so willed
it, would be sacrificed. It was detestable, but a fact; as good already
as an accomplished fact.
And on the following morning Ida's note reached him. It was final.
Her entreaty that he would merely send money had no weight with him
for a moment; he felt that there was a contradiction between her
words and her wishes. This note explained the strangeness he had
noticed in her on their last evening together. He pitied her, and,
as is so often the case, pity was but fuel to passion. He swept from
his mind all obstinate debatings. Passion should be a law unto
itself. Let the future bring things about as it would.
He had risen late, and by the time he had finished a hasty breakfast
it was eleven o'clock. Half an hour after he went up the stairs of
the lodging-house and knocked at the familiar door.
But his knock met with no answer. Ida herself had left home an hour
before. Upon waking, and recalling what she had done, she foresaw
that Waymark would himself come, in spite of her request. She could
not face him. For all that her exhaustion was so great that walking
was slow and weary, she went out and strayed at first with no aim;
but presently she took the direction of Chelsea, and so came to
Beaufort Street.
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