Hood felt an accession of confidence; he explained naturally the cause of his delay.
'All right,' was the reply, as Dagworthy took the note which his correspondent had sent.
Hood was in his own room, and--the money was still in his pocket....
He did not set out to walk home with his usual cheerfulness that evening.

His headache had grown worse, and he wished, wished at every step he took, that the lie he had to tell to his wife was over and done with.

There was no repentance of the decision which, it seemed on looking back, he had arrived at involuntarily.

The coin which made his pocket heavy meant joy to those at home, and, if he got it wrongfully, the wrong was so dubious, so shadowy, that it vanished in comparison with the good that would be done.

It was not--he said to himself--as if he had committed a theft to dissipate the proceeds, like that young fellow who ran away from the Dunfield and County Bank some months ago, and was caught in London with disreputable associates.