For his comfort, yes,--Waymark thought, as he walked homewards.
Ida had already a dangerous hold upon him; she possessed his senses,
and set him on fire with passionate imaginings. Here, as on every
hand, his cursed poverty closed against him the possibilities of
happiness. That she should ever come to love him, seemed very
unlikely; the alliance between them could only be a mere caprice on
her part, such as girls of her kind are very subject to; he might
perhaps fill up her intervals of tedium, but would have no share in
her real life. And the thought of that life fevered him with
jealousy. She might say what she liked about never having known
love, but it was of course impossible that she should not have a
preference among her lovers. And to think of the chances before such
a girl, so blessed with rare beauty and endless charms. In the
natural order of events she would become the mistress of some rich
man; might even, as at times happens, be rescued by marriage; in
either case, their acquaintance must cease. And, indeed, what right
had he to endeavour to gain her love having nothing but mere
beggarly devotion to offer her in return? He had not even the excuse
of one who could offer her married life in easy circumstances,--
supposing that to be an improvement on her present position. Would
it not be better at once to break off these impossible relations?
How often he had promised himself, in moments of clear thought,
never again to enter on a course which would obviously involve him
in futile suffering. Why had he not now the strength to obey his
reason, and continue to possess his soul in the calm of which he had
enjoyed a brief taste?

The novel circumstances of the past week had almost driven from his
mind all thought of Maud Enderby. He regretted having asked and
obtained permission to write to her. She seemed so remote from him,