Ronnie, wouldn't it be rather lovely?
Think of the little cosy tea-table, and your own especial chair, and the soft lamp-light--" She paused abruptly.

The mental picture had recalled to both the evening on which they last stood together in that golden lamplight.
Ronnie hesitated, looking at the floor.

Then he raised his eyes to Helen's.

"I don't think I could bear it," he said, turned from her quickly, and went upstairs.
In his room he scribbled a note.
"My wife--I am awfully sorry, but I simply _had_ to bolt.

Don't be alarmed.