I lay and wondered and wondered what were Alathea's emotions after I
left her. Should I ever know? When the hour was up I went back into the
sitting-room. I had struggled against the awful depression which was
overcoming me. I suppose every man has committed some action he is sorry
and ashamed of, forced thereto by some emotion, either of anger or
desire, which has been too strong for his will to control--. This is the
way murders must often have been committed, and other crimes--I had not
the slightest intention of behaving like a cad--or of doing anything
which I knew would probably part us forever.--If my insult had been
deliberate or planned, I would have held her longer, and knowing I was
going to lose her by my action, I would have profited by it. As I lay on
my bed in great pain from the wrench in getting there alone--I tried to
analyse things. The nervous excitement in which she always plunges me
must have come to the culminating point. The only thing I was glad about
was that I had not attempted to ask forgiveness, or to palliate my
conduct. If I had done so she would undoubtedly have walked straight out
of the hotel--but having just had the sense to leave her to think for a
while--perhaps--?

Well--I was sitting in my chair--feeling some kind of numb
anguish--which I suppose those going to be hanged experience, when
Burton brought in my tea--and I heard no sound of clicking next door--I
asked him as naturally as I could if Miss Sharp had gone--.