VIII
Of Vain Regret and Wonder in the Dark
"Madam," he was insanely stating, "I would not for the world set up as a fit exponent for the mottoes of a copy-*book; but I am not all base."
"You are," flashed she, "a notorious rogue."
It was quite dark. Kennaston could not see the woman with whom he was talking. But they were in an open paved place, like a courtyard, and he was facing the great shut door against which she stood, vaguely discernible. He knew they were waiting for some one to open this door. It seemed to him, for no reason at all, that they were at Tunbridge Wells. But there was no light anywhere. Complete darkness submerged them; the skies showed not one glimmer overhead.
"That I am of smirched repute, madam, I lack both grounds and inclination to deny. Yet I am
