We had not been married quite a month yet. If my heart was heavy, if my resolution for a moment faltered again, when I looked at her face turned faithfully to my pillow in her sleep⁠—when I saw her hand resting open on the coverlid, as if it was waiting unconsciously for mine⁠—surely there was some excuse for me? I only allowed myself a few minutes to kneel down at the bedside, and to look close at her⁠—so close that her breath, as it came and went, fluttered on my face. I only touched her hand and her cheek with my lips at parting. She stirred in her sleep and murmured my name, but without waking. I lingered for an instant at the door to look at her again. “God bless and keep you, my darling!” I whispered, and left her.

Marian was at the stairhead waiting for me. She had a folded slip of paper in her hand.

“The landlord’s son has brought this for you,” she said. “He has got a cab at the door⁠—he says you ordered him to keep it at your disposal.”