between us as we slowly walked on again was so unendurable that I
actually cast about in my mind for a subject of conversation, as
if I had been in the company of a stranger! In mercy to _him_, I
asked him to tell me about the yacht.

He seized on the subject as a drowning man seizes on the hand
that rescues him.

On that one poor little topic of the yacht he talked, talked,
talked, as if his life depended upon his not being silent for an
instant on the rest of the way back. To me it was dreadful to
hear him. I could estimate what he was suffering by the violence
which he--ordinarily a silent and thoughtful man--was now doing
to his true nature, and to the prejudices and habits of his life.
With the greatest difficulty I preserved my self-control until we
reached the door of our lodgings. There I was obliged to plead
fatigue, and ask him to let me rest for a little while in the
solitude of my own room.

"Shall we sail to-morrow?" he called after me suddenly, as I
ascended the stairs.

Sail with him to the Mediterranean the next day? Pass weeks and
weeks absolutely alone with him, in the narrow limits of a
vessel, with his horrible secret parting us in sympathy further
and further from each other day by day? I shuddered at the
thought of it.

"To-morrow is rather a short notice," I said. "Will you give me a
little longer time to prepare for the voyage?"