But what should he do now? It was impossible, after what had passed between them, that he should leave Mrs. Hurtle at her lodgings at Islington without any notice. It was clear enough to him that she would not consent to be so left. Then her present proposal,--though it seemed to be absurd and almost comical in the tragical condition of their present circumstances,--had in it some immediate comfort. To take her out and give her a dinner, and then go with her to some theatre, would be easy and perhaps pleasant. It would be easier, and certainly much pleasanter, because she had pledged herself to abstain from talking of her grievances. Then he remembered some happy evenings, delicious hours, which he had so passed with her, when they were first together at New York. There could be no better companion for such a festival. She could talk,--and she could listen as well as talk. And she could sit silent, conveying to her neighbour the sense of her feminine charms by her simple proximity. 
But what should he do now? It was impossible, after what had passed between them, that he should leave Mrs. Hurtle immediately. It was clear that she would not consent to be so left. Her present proposal held some comfort. To take her out to dinner and the theatre would be easy and perhaps pleasant. He remembered some delightful evenings which he had so passed with her, when they were first together at New York. She could both talk and listen, and