"You are going to take another wife! My God! I never thought--I never
dreamt. It seemed so--so--impossible. I hope she will make you
happier than I did."

"Oh, hush, hush!"

"She is one of your own class--a lady? What is her name?"

"I would rather not mention it. Give me your hand and let us part in
peace."

"Tell it me," she pleaded. "What name do you call her by?"

"Ethel."

"Ethel and Bella. Ah, Ethel is far the nicer name. We didn't think
once that you would ever be telling me you were going to be married
to someone else, did we? It feels queer, and it hurts me--a little, I
think. Good-bye, Jack. I see now why you could not kiss me--it would
not be right of you. She is a young girl and she might find it hard
to forgive you if she knew. I am going. You used to have a bell on
your table, I recollect, with a little white knob that you pressed
when Mary was to go to the hall door. Do you use it still? Oh, I see.
Let me press it instead of you, may I? I sha'n't feel so much as if
you were turning me out. Good-bye." She said the word lingeringly,
tenderly. "Say 'Bella' once again, for the sake of old times."

Jack Chetwynd took the slender trembling hand in his with God knows
what of anguish and pity stirring at his heart.