effort was necessary; that treason to her was possible, and because
he had looked with such eyes upon his cousin that evening. He saw
himself as something separate from himself, and although he knew what
he saw to be flimsy and shallow, he could do nothing to deepen it,
absolutely nothing! It was not the betrayal of that thunderstorm
which now tormented him. He could have represented that as a failure
to be surmounted; he could have repented it. It was his own inner
being from which he revolted, from limitations which are worse than
crimes, for who, by taking thought, can add one cubit to his stature?



CHAPTER XVI



The next morning found Frank once more in Myddelton Square. He
looked up at the house; the windows were all shut, and the blinds
were drawn down. He had half a mind to call again, but Mrs Cork's
manner had been so offensive and repellent that he desisted.
Presently the door opened, and Maria, the maid, came out to clean the
doorsteps. Maria, as we have already said, was a little more human
than her mistress, and having overheard the conversation between her
and Frank at the first interview, had come to the conclusion that
Frank was to be pitied, and she took a fancy to him. Accordingly,
when he passed her, she looked up and said,--'Good-morning.' Frank
stopped, and returned her greeting.

'You was here the other day, sir, asking where them Hopgoods had
gone.'