regard。 Whyoh； why！could she not then and there cry out： 〃And
I love himdo you hear？I love him！〃 So awful did it seem to be
denying her love with these half lies！ But it was all so much more
grim and hopeless than even she had thought。 How inconceivable；
now； that she had ever given herself up to this man for life！ If
only she could get away from him to her room； and scheme and think！
For his eyes never left her； travelling over her with their
pathetic greed； their menacing inquiry； till he said： 〃Well； it's
not done you any harm。 You look very fit。〃 But his touch was too
much even for her self…command； and she recoiled as if he had
struck her。
〃What's the matter？ Did I hurt you？〃
It seemed to her that he was jeeringthen realized as vividly that
he was not。 And the full danger to her； perhaps to Mark himself；
of shrinking from this man； striking her with all its pitiable
force； she made a painful effort； slipped her hand under his arm；
and said： 〃I'm very tired。 You startled me。〃
But he put her hand away； and turning his face； stared out of the
window。 And so they reached their home。
When he had left her alone； she remained where she was standing； by
her wardrobe； without sound or movement； thinking： What am I going
to do？ How am I going to live？
IX
When Mark Lennan； travelling through from Beaulieu； reached his
rooms in Chelsea； he went at once to the little pile of his
letters； twice hunted through them； then stood very still； with a
stunned； sick feeling。 Why had she not sent him that promised
note？ And now he realizedthough not yet to the fullwhat it
meant to be in love with a married woman。 He must wait in this
suspense for eighteen hours at least； till he could call； and find
out what had happened to prevent her； till he could hear from her
lips that she still loved him。 The chilliest of legal lovers had
access to his love； but he must possess a soul that was on fire； in
this deadly patience； for fear of doing something that might
jeopardize her。 Telegraph？ He dared not。 Write？ She would get
it by the first post； but what could he say that was not dangerous；
if Cramier chanced to see？ Call？ Still more impossible till three
o'clock； at very earliest； to…morrow。 His gaze wandered round the
studio。 Were these household gods； and all these works of his；
indeed the same he had left twenty days ago？ They seemed to exist
now only in so far as she might come to see themcome and sit in
such a chair； and drink out of such a cup； and let him put this
cushion for her back； and that footstool for her feet。 And so
vividly could he see her lying back in that chair looking across at
him； that he could hardly believe she had never yet sat there。 It
was odd howwithout any resolution taken； without admission that
their love could not remain platonic； without any change in their
relations； save one humble kiss and a few whispered words
everything was changed。 A month or so ago； if he had wanted； he
would have gone at once calmly to her house。 It would have seemed
harmless； and quite natural。 Now it was impossible to do openly
the least thing that strict convention did not find desirable。
Sooner or later they would find him stepping over convention； and
take him for what he was nota real lover！ A real lover！ He
knelt down before the empty chair and stretched out his arms。 No
substanceno warmthno fragrancenothing！ Longing that passed
through air； as the wind through grass。
He went to the little round window； which overlooked the river。
The last evening of May； gloaming above the water； dusk resting in
the trees； and the air warm！ Better to be out； and moving in the
night； out in the ebb and flow of things； among others whose hearts
were beating； than stay in this place that without her was so cold
and meaningless。
Lampsthe passion…fruit of townswere turning from pallor to full
orange； and the stars were coming out。 Half…past nine！ At ten
o'clock； and not before； he would walk past her house。 To have
this something to look forward to； however furtive and barren；
helped。 But on a Saturday night there would be no sitting at the
House。 Cramier would be at home； or they would both be out； or
perhaps have gone down to their river cottage。 Cramier！ What
cruel demon had presided over that marring of her life！ Why had he
never met her till after she had bound herself to this man！ From a
negative contempt for one who was either not sensitive enough to
recognize that his marriage was a failure； or not chivalrous enough
to make that failure bear as little hardly as possible on his wife；
he had come already to jealous hatred as of a monster。 To be face
to face with Cramier in a mortal conflict could alone have
satisfied his feeling。 。 。 。 Yet he was a young man by nature
gentle！
His heart beat desperately as he approached that streetone of
those little old streets； so beautiful； that belonged to a vanished
London。 It was very narrow； there was no shelter； and he thought
confusedly of what he could say； if met in this remote backwater
that led nowhere。 He would tell some lie； no doubt。 Lies would
now be his daily business。 Lies and hatred； those violent things
of life； would come to seem quite natural； in the violence of his
love。
He stood a moment； hesitating； by the rails of the old church。
Black； white…veined； with shadowy summits； in that half darkness；
it was like some gigantic vision。 Mystery itself seemed modelled
there。 He turned and walked quickly down the street close to the
houses on the further side。 The windows of her house were lighted！
So； she was not away！ Dim light in the dining…room； lights in the
room aboveher bedroom； doubtless。 Was there no way to bring her
to the window； no way his spirit could climb up there and beckon
hers out to him？ Perhaps she was not there； perhaps it was but a
servant taking up hot water。 He was at the end of the street by
now； but to leave without once more passing was impossible。 And
this time he went slowly； his head down； feigning abstraction；
grudging every inch of pavement； and all the time furtively
searching that window with the light behind the curtains。 Nothing！
Once more he was close to the railings of the church； and once more
could not bring himself to go away。 In the little； close； deserted
street； not a soul was moving； not even a cat or dog； nothing alive
but many discreet； lighted windows。 Like veiled faces； showing no
emotion； they seemed to watch his indecision。 And he thought： 〃Ah；
well！ I dare say there are lots like me。 Lots as near； and yet as
far away！ Lots who have to suffer！〃 But what would he not have
given for the throwing open of those curtains。 Then； suddenly
scared by an approaching figure； he turned and walked away。
X
At three o'clock next day he called。
In the middle of her white drawing…room； whose latticed window ran
the whole length of one wall； stood a little table on which was a
silver jar full of early larkspurs； evidently from her garden by
the river。 And Lennan waited； his eyes fixed on those blossoms so
like to little blue butterflies and strange…hued crickets； tethered
to the pale green stems。 In this room she passed her days； guarded
from him。 Once a week； at most； he would be able to come there
once a week for an hour or two of the hundred and sixty…eight hours
that he longed to be with her。
And suddenly he was conscious of her。 She had come in without
sound； and was standing by the piano； so pale； in her cream…white
dress； that her eyes looked jet black。 He hardly knew that face；
like a flower closed against cold。
What had he done？ What had happened in these five days to make her
like this to him？ He took her hands and tried to kiss them； but
she said quickly：
〃He's in！〃
At that he stood silent； looking into that face； frozen to a
dreadful composure； on the breaking up of which his very life
seemed to depend。 At last he said：
〃What is it？ Am I nothing to you； after all？〃
But as soon as he had spoken he saw that he need not have asked；
and flung his arms round her。 She clung to him with desperation；
then freed herself； and said：
〃No； no； let's sit down quietly！〃
He obeyed； half…divining； half…refusing to admit all that lay
behind that strange coldness； and this desperate embrace； all the
self…pity； and self…loathing； shame； rage； and longing of a married
woman for the first time face to face with her lover in her
husband's house。
She seemed now to be trying to make him forget her strange
behaviour； to be what she had been during that fortnight in the
sunshine。 But； suddenly； just moving her lips； she said：
〃Quick！ When can we see each other？ I will come to you to tea
to…morrow；〃 and； following her eyes； he saw the door opening； and
Cramier coming in。 Unsmiling； very big in the low room； he crossed
over to them； and offered his hand to Lennan； then drawing a low
chair forward between their two chairs； sat down。
〃So you're back；〃 he said。 〃Have a good time？〃
〃Thanks； yes； very。〃
〃Luck for Olive you were there； those places are dull holes。〃
〃It was luck for me。〃
〃No doubt。〃 And with those words he turned to his wife。 His
elbows rested along the arms of his chair； so that his clenched
palms were upwards； it was as if he knew that he was holding those
two； gripped one in each hand。
〃I wonder；〃 he said slowly； 〃that fellows like you； with nothing in
the world to tie them； ever sit down in a place like London。 I
should have thought Rome or Paris were your happy hunting…grounds。〃
In his voice； in those eyes of his； a little bloodshot； with their
look of power； in his whole attitude； there was a sort of muffled
menace； and contempt； as though he were thinking： 〃Step into my
path； and I will crush you！〃
And Lennan thought：
〃How long must I sit here？〃 Then； past that figure planted solidly
between them； he caught a look from her； swift； sure； marvellously
timedagain and againas if she were being urged by the very
presence of this danger。 One of those glances would surelysurely
be seen by Cramier。 Is there need for fear that a swallow should
dash itself against the wall o