a little pride--"

"Let me get my hat and coat--let me take you to a doctor," he muttered.

But she refused. She refused even the support of his arm. She gave
another unsteady laugh.

"I'm sorry I broke your stairs, Paul.... You will go and see about the
short stories, won't you?"

He groaned.

"Then if you won't see a doctor, will you go across the square and let
Mrs. Barrett look at you? Look, there's Barrett passing now--"

The long-nosed Barrett was looking curiously down the alley, but as
Oleron was about to call him he made off without a word. Elsie seemed
anxious for nothing so much as to be clear of the place, and finally
promised to go straight to a doctor, but insisted on going alone.

"Good-bye," she said.

And Oleron watched her until she was past the hatchet-like "To Let"
boards, as if he feared that even they might fall upon her and maim her.

That night Oleron did not dine. He had far too much on his mind. He
walked from room to room of his flat, as if he could have walked away
from Elsie Bengough's haunting cry that still rang in his ears. "I'm
not wanted--don't offer me anything less--let me take away what's left
of me--"