had done for years. The boys said he had worn the paint off
that particular place. Ludovic knew of no reason why he should
paste himself up against the church door. Theodora would come
out as usual, and he would join her as she went past the
corner.

This was what happened, Theodora came down the steps, her
stately figure outlined in its darkness against the gush of
lamplight from the porch. Arnold Sherman asked her if he might
see her home. Theodora took his arm calmly, and together they
swept past the stupefied Ludovic, who stood helplessly gazing
after them as if unable to believe his eyes.

For a few moments he stood there limply; then he started down
the road after his fickle lady and her new admirer. The boys
and irresponsible young men crowded after, expecting some
excitement, but they were disappointed. Ludovic strode on
until he overtook Theodora and Arnold Sherman, and then fell
meekly in behind them.

Theodora hardly enjoyed her walk home, although Arnold Sherman
laid himself out to be especially entertaining. Her heart
yearned after Ludovic, whose shuffling footsteps she heard
behind her. She feared that she had been very cruel, but she
was in for it now. She steeled herself by the reflection that
it was all for his own good, and she talked to Arnold Sherman
as if he were the one man in the world. Poor, deserted
Ludovic, following humbly behind, heard her, and if Theodora
had known how bitter the cup she was holding to his lips
really was, she would never have been resolute enough to