"I should go away--to California. I'm sick of this stinking town. It's played out for me. At Mallingbridge I'm a dead-beat--people don't believe in me--I've no real friends. But I should do all right out West--and I want a decent climate. Between you and me and the post, I funk another English winter."

"Do you mean that you want to desert me altogether?"

"Jane, what's the use of asking me that? You and I have got to the end of our tether, haven't we? What good can I do sticking here any longer?

I can't help you--I can't help myself. We're done. You'd far wiser divide what we can grab from Bence, and let me go."

"But to a person of your tastes and habits, three thousand pounds is not an inexhaustible sum. Do you think that, as your entire capital, it would be enough for you?"

"Yes, I do," he said eagerly. "Life is cheaper out there. In that lovely climate one doesn't want to binge up. There aren't the same temptations.

I should turn over a new leaf--put the brake on--make a fresh start."

"And should I never see you again?"

"Oh, I don't say that. No--of course I should come back. I don't see what real difference it would make to you. We're a semi-detached couple, as it is."

"Yes, but not quite detached."

"Well, you'd let me go on a little longer string. That's all about it;"

and he laughed good-humouredly. He believed that he would soon overcome her opposition. "I never meant any total severance, you know. We should be like the swells--Mrs. Marsden is residing at Mallingbridge; Mr.

Marsden has gone to the Pacific Coast for the winter. We'd put it in the paper, if you liked."

"I see that you are very keen to close with--with Mr. Bence's proposal."

"Yes, I am--and I honestly believe you ought to be just as keen."

And again he extolled his personal merit in s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the proposer.

Bence had pointed out that if he quietly waited until Thompson & Marsden were forced as bankrupts to put up their shutters, he would buy all he wanted at a much lower price. The premises, and the premises only, were what Bence wanted. After a bankruptcy he could buy the lease at the market price, and not have to give a penny for anything else. Bence said his offer was extravagantly liberal; but he frankly admitted that he felt in a hurry to clear up the street, and make it neat and tidy. He would therefore fork out thus handsomely to avoid delay.

"He said we were doing the street _harm_, Jane. And, upon my word, I couldn't deny that. I've often told Mears we have got to look more like a funeral than anything else."

"And you wish us to be decently buried?"

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders in the utmost good-humour. He felt sure now that she would yield; and with increasing eagerness he urged her to adopt his views.

"Very well," she said at last. "It is your wish?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then on one condition," and she spoke in a hard, matter-of-fact voice,--"on _one_ condition, I'll consent."

"What's your condition?"

"When we wind up our business relations, we must wind up all our other relations.... It must be a total severance--I am using your own word--and no half measures. When you leave Mallingbridge you must leave it forever. You must undertake--bind yourself never to set foot in it again."

"Oh, I say."

"You must execute a deed of separation."

He seemed greatly surprised; and for a little while hesitated, as if unable to express his thoughts.

"Look here, Jane.... You're talking big, old lady. What next?... Deed of separation! That's a very large order."

"You are taking freedom for yourself. You must give me freedom."

"Oh, no, you overdo that line," he said slowly. "I told you I would come back--some day or other. Yet now you take up this high and mighty tone--as though I had given you the right to cut me adrift altogether."

"Ah! I understand. You thought you'd have _your_ three thousand to spend, and _my_ three thousand to fall back upon. Then again I refuse the offer."

"Don't be hasty--and don't impute bad motives where none exist. No, you have struck me all of a heap by what you demand. I wasn't prepared for it--and it wants a bit of thought, before I can say yes or no."

And he began to bargain about the deed of separation. He had seen an unexpected chance, and he meant to make the most of it.

"Let's be business-like, Jane. If I renounce all claims on you forever--if I agree to make a formal renunciation,--well, surely that's worth _something_ to you?"

"Do you mean, worth money? Are you asking me to pay you?"

"I want to start a new life out there--and I shall need all the money I can get. You told me so, yourself--three thou. is devilish little to face the world on."

"Yes," she said quietly, "and with another person dependent on you."

"What do you say?"

"I say, you are not going alone.... We must think of your companion, as well as of yourself."

"Jane, you're hard on me."

"Am I?"

And the bargaining went on.

Finally they came to terms. She was to give him half her share, in exchange for absolute freedom. He would thus have four thousand five hundred pounds as initial impetus for his new career.

"Do you say _done_ to that?"

"Yes," she replied coldly and firmly, "I say done."

He sat down, drew out a dirty handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. His argumentative efforts had made him warm; but he smiled contentedly. He considered that "in the circs." it was a jolly good bargain.

"d.i.c.k," and her voice suddenly softened. "Have you thought what _I_ am to do? Fifteen hundred pounds isn't much for _me_--to start a new life with."

"You have money of your own.... I am certain that you have a tidy nest-egg still."

"If I were to tell you that I hadn't another penny in the world?"

"I shouldn't believe it."

"If I convinced you that it was literally true, would it make any difference to you?"