Not always that; for once a friend of mine, seeing the inevitable loom menacingly before him, took ship from a certain port (with a tooth-brash for all his luggage, so conscious was he of his danger and the necessity for immediate action) and spent a year travelling round the world; but when, thinking himself safe (women are fickle, he said, and in twelve months she will have forgotten all about me), he landed at the selfsame port the first person he saw gaily waving to him from the quay was the little lady from whom he had fled.
I have only once known a man who in such circumstances managed to extricate himself.
His name was Roger Charing.
He was no longer young when he fell in love with Ruth Barlow and he had had sufficient experience to make him careful; but Ruth Barlow had a gift (or should I call it a quality?) that renders most men defenceless, and it was this that dispossessed Roger of his commonsense, his prudence, and his worldly wisdom.
He went down like a row of ninepins.
This was the gift of pathos.
Mrs Barlow, for she was twice a widow, had splendid dark eyes and they were the most moving I ever saw; they seemed to be ever on the point of filling with tears; they suggested that the world was too much for her, and you felt that, poor dear, her sufferings had been more than anyone should be asked to bear.
If, like Roger Charing, you were a strong, hefty fellow with plenty of money, it was almost inevitable that you should say to yourself: I must stand between the hazards of life and this helpless little thing, oh, how wonderful it would be to take the sadness put of those big and lovely eyes!
I gathered from Roger that everyone had treated Mrs Barlow very badly.
She was apparently one of those unfortunate persons with whom nothing by any chance goes right.
If she married a husband he beat her; if she employed a broker he cheated her; if she engaged a cook she drank.
She never had a little lamb but it was sure to die.
When Roger told me that he had at last persuaded her to marry him, I wished him joy.
"I hope you'll be good friends," he said.
"She's a little afraid of you, you know; she thinks you're callous."
"Upon my word I don't know why she should think that."
"You do like her, don't you?"
"Very much."
"She's had a rotten time, poor dear.
I feel so dreadfully sorry for her."
"Yes," I said.
I couldn't say less.
I knew she was stupid and I thought she was scheming.
My own belief was that she was as hard as nails.
The first time I met her we had played bridge together and when she was my partner she twice tramped my best card.
I behaved like an angel, but I confess that I thought if the tears were going to well up into anybody's eyes they should have been mine rather than hers.
And when, having by the end of the evening lost a good deal of money to me, she said she would send me a cheque and never did, I could not but think that I and not she should have worn a pathetic expression when next we met.
Roger introduced her to his friends.
He gave her lovely jewels.
He took her here, there, and everywhere.
Their marriage was announced for the immediate future.
Roger was very happy.
He was committing a good action and at the same time doing something he had very much a mind to.
It is an uncommon situation and it is not surprising if he was a trifle more pleased with himself than was altogether becoming.
Then, on a sudden, he fell out of love.
I do not know why.
It could hardly have been that he grew tired of her conversation, for she had never had any conversation. Perhaps it was merely that this pathetic look of hers ceased to wring his heartstrings.
His eyes were opened and he was once more the shrewd man of the world he had been.
He became acutely conscious that Ruth Barlow had made up her mind to marry him and he swore a solemn oath that nothing would induce him to marry Ruth Barlow.
But he was in a quandary.
Now that he was in possession of his senses he saw with clearness the sort of woman he had to deal with and he was aware that, if he asked her to release him, she would (in her appealing way) assess her wounded feelings at an immoderately high figure.
Besides, it is always awkward for a man to jilt a woman.
People are apt to think he has behaved badly.
Roger kept his own counsel.
He gave neither by word nor gesture an indication that his feelings towards Ruth Barlow had changed.
He remained attentive to all her wishes; he took her to dine at restaurants, they went to the play together, he sent her flowers; he was sympathetic and charming.
They had made up their minds that they would be married as soon as they found a house that suited them, for he lived in chambers and she in furnished rooms; and they set about looking at desirable residences.
The agents sent Roger orders to view and he took Ruth to see a number of houses.
It was very hard to find anything that was quite satisfactory.
Roger applied to more agents.