“I promise,” he agreed.

“Tell me everything—­don’t keep anything back.”

“On my honor,” he declared, smiling.  “I will bring the menu of the dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I can steal it.  Now I am going to help you back into your room.”

“Don’t bother,” she begged.  “Open the door and I can get there quite easily.”

He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened the door of another room, similar to his.  They were somber apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a nobleman’s residence.  The doors were still heavy, though blistered with time and lack of varnish.  There were the remains of paneling upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling.

“Come and see me before you go,” she pleaded.  “I am all alone.  Isaac has gone to a meeting somewhere.”

He promised and returned to his own apartment.  With the help of a candle which he stuck upon the mantelpiece, and a cracked mirror, he first of all shaved, then disappeared for a few minutes behind a piece of faded curtain and washed vigorously.  Afterwards he changed his clothes, putting on a dress suit produced from the trunk.  When he had finished, he stepped back and laughed softly to himself.  His clothes were well cut.  His studs, which had very many times been on the point of visiting the pawnbroker’s, were correct and good.  He was indeed an incongruous figure as he stood there and, with a candle carefully held away from him in his hand, looked at his own reflection.  For some reason or other, he was feeling elated.  Ruth’s words had lingered in his brain.  One could never tell which way fortune might come!

He found her waiting in the darkness.  Her long arms were wound for a moment around his neck, a sudden passion shook her.

“Arnold—­dear Arnold,” she sobbed, “you are going into the storm—­and I want to go!  I want to go, too!  My hands are cold, and my heart.  Take me with you, dear!”

He was a little startled.  It was not often that she was hysterical.  He looked down into her convulsed face.  She choked for a moment, and then, although it was not altogether a successful effort, she laughed.

“Don’t mind me,” she begged.  “I am a little mad to-night.  I think that the twilight here has got upon my nerves.  Light the lamp, please.  Light the lamp and leave me alone for a moment while you do it.”

He obeyed, fetching some matches from his own room and setting the lamp, when it was lit, on the table by her side.  There were no tears left in her eyes now.  Her lips were tremulous, but an unusual spot of color was burning in her cheeks.  While he had been dressing, he saw that she had tied a piece of deep blue ribbon, the color he liked best, around her hair.

“See, I am myself now.  Good night and good luck to you, Arnold!  Eat a good dinner, mind, and remember your promise.”