"It won't do any good; but it may prevent some evil."

"Nothing but evil can ever come of it."

"Oh, no evil need necessarily come of it."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury, who began to be excited. "Really, my
dear fellow, you don't think. You see you can't gain any thing. She's
surrounded by friends, you know. She never can be yours, you know.
There's a great gulf between you, and all that sort of thing, you
know."

"Yes," repeated Dacres, catching his last words--"yes, a great gulf,
as deep as the bottomless abyss, never to be traversed, where she
stands on one side, and I on the other, and between us hate, deep and
pitiless hate, undying, eternal!"

"Then, by Jove! my dear fellow, what's the use of trying to fight
against it? You can't do any thing. If this were Indiana, now, or even
New York, I wouldn't say any thing, you know; but you know an Indiana
divorce wouldn't do _you_ any good. Her friends wouldn't take you on
those terms--and she wouldn't. Not she, by Jove!"

"I _must_ go. I must follow her," continued Dacres. "The sight of her
has roused a devil within me that I thought was laid. I'm a changed
man, Hawbury."

"I should think so, by Jove!"