" "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. She left for good after he fell asleep. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. “But if some one else asked your advice? If some one else said, ‘Here is my teacher, a jaded married man on the verge of middle age, and he and I have a violent passion for one another.
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