He opened a shabby pocket-book, and took out a letter.  “There, you read that,” he said.

Rawson-Clew read, and at the end was little wiser.  Julia said she had left one situation (reason not even suggested), and had got another.  That she did not wish to give her new address, or to hear from Mr. Gillat, or her family, at this new place, as it might spoil her arrangements.  Rawson-Clew recognised the last word as a favourite of Julia’s; with her it was elastic, and could mean anything, from a piece of lace arranged to fill up the neck of a dress, to a complex and far-reaching scheme arranged to bring about some desired end.  What it meant in the present instance was not indicated, but clearly she did not wish for interference, and, with some wisdom, took the surest way to prevent it by making it well-nigh impossible.  She had left one means of communication, however, though apparently that was for Johnny only.  “If you and father get into any very great muddle,” she wrote, “you must let me know.  Put an advertisement—­one word, ‘Johnny,’ will do—­in a paper; I shall understand, and, if I can, I will try to do something.”  A paper was suggested; it was a cheap weekly.  Rawson-Clew remembered to have seen it once in the small Dutch town that summer, so it was to be got there.  Unfortunately, as he also remembered, it was to be got in Amsterdam and Rotterdam, and Paris and Berlin too.

He folded the letter, and returned it to Mr. Gillat.  “Thank you,” he said; “evidently, as you say, she does not wish to be found, and it would seem she has got some sort of employment, although I am afraid it cannot be of an easy or pleasant sort.”

He did not explain the reason he had for thinking so, and Mr. Gillat never thought of asking.  Soon after he went away.

Clearly there was nothing to be done.  Julia did not mean to have his help and protection; and, with a decision and completeness which, now he came to think of it, did not altogether surprise him, she has taken care to avoid them.  That absurd refusal of hers was, after all, a reprieve, although until now he had not looked upon it in that light.  No doubt it was a good thing affairs had turned out as they had; the marriage would have been in many ways disadvantageous.  Yet he certainly would have insisted on it, and taken trouble to do so, if she had not put it altogether out of his power.  All the same, he did not feel as gratified as he ought, perhaps because the arrogance of man is not pleased to have woman arbitrator of his fate, and the instinct of gentleman is not satisfied to have her bear his burden, perhaps for some other less clear reason.  He really did not know himself, and did not try to think; there seemed little object in doing so, seeing that incident was closed.