’ What would you tell her?” “If she asked advice, I should say she wasn’t fit to do anything of the sort. "Sir Cecil is no more. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it.
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