gloved hand pressed his hard； and she was gone。 He stayed in the
paddock； too happy almost to breathe。 。 。 。
Next day； while waiting before that picture； he looked at it with
wonder。 For there seemed his own passion transfigured in the
darkening star…crowned sky； and the eyes of the leaping god。 In
spirit； was he not always rushing to her like that？ Minutes
passed； and she did not come。 What should he do if she failed him？
Surely die of disappointment and despair。 。 。 。 He had little
enough experience as yet of the toughness of the human heart； how
life bruises and crushes； yet leaves it beating。 。 。 。 Then； from
an unlikely quarter； he saw her coming。
They walked in silence down to the quiet rooms where the Turner
watercolours hung。 No one； save two Frenchmen and an old official；
watched them passing slowly before those little pictures； till they
came to the end wall； and； unseen； unheard by any but her； he could
begin！
The arguments he had so carefully rehearsed were all forgotten；
nothing left but an incoherent pleading。 Life without her was not
life； and they had only one life for loveone summer。 It was all
dark where she was notthe very sun itself was dark。 Better to
die than to live such false； broken lives； apart from each other。
Better to die at once than to live wanting each other； longing and
longing； and watching each other's sorrow。 And all for the sake of
what？ It maddened； killed him； to think of that man touching her
when he knew she did but hate him。 It shamed all manhood； it could
not be good to help such things to be。 A vow when the spirit of it
was gone was only superstition； it was wicked to waste one's life
for the sake of that。 Societyshe knew； she must knowonly cared
for the forms； the outsides of things。 And what did it matter what
Society thought？ It had no soul； no feeling； nothing。 And if it
were said they ought to sacrifice themselves for the sake of
others； to make things happier in the world； she must know that was
only true when love was light and selfish； but not when people
loved as they did； with all their hearts and souls； so that they
would die for each other any minute； so that without each other
there was no meaning in anything。 It would not help a single soul；
for them to murder their love and all the happiness of their lives；
to go on in a sort of living death。 Even if it were wrong； he
would rather do that wrong； and take the consequences！ But it was
not； it COULD not be wrong； when they felt like that！
And all the time that he was pouring forth those supplications； his
eyes searched and searched her face。 But there only came from her：
〃I don't knowI can't tellif only I knew！〃 And then he was
silent； stricken to the heart； till； at a look or a touch from her；
he would break out again： 〃You do love meyou do； then what does
anything else matter？〃
And so it went on and on that summer afternoon； in the deserted
room meant for such other things； where the two Frenchmen were too
sympathetic； and the old official too drowsy； to come。 Then it all
narrowed to one fierce； insistent question：
〃What is itWHAT is it you're afraid of？〃
But to that； too； he got only the one mournful answer； paralyzing
in its fateful monotony。
〃I don't knowI can't tell！〃
It was awful to go on thus beating against this uncanny； dark；
shadowy resistance； these unreal doubts and dreads； that by their
very dumbness were becoming real to him； too。 If only she could
tell him what she feared！ It could not be povertythat was not
like herbesides； he had enough for both。 It could not be loss of
a social position； which was but irksome to her！ Surely it was not
fear that he would cease to love her！ What was it？ In God's name
what？
To…morrowshe had told himshe was to go down； alone； to the
river…house； would she not come now； this very minute； to him
instead？ And they would start offthat night； back to the South
where their love had flowered。 But again it was： 〃I can't！ I
don't knowI must have time！〃 And yet her eyes had that brooding
love…light。 How COULD she hold back and waver？ But； utterly
exhausted； he did not plead again； did not even resist when she
said： 〃You must go； now； and leave me to get back！ I will write。
PerhapssoonI shall know。〃 He begged for； and took one kiss；
then； passing the old official； went quickly up and out。
XV
He reached his rooms overcome by a lassitude that was not； however；
quite despair。 He had made his effort； failedbut there was still
within him the unconquerable hope of the passionate lover。 。 。 。
As well try to extinguish in full June the beating of the heart of
summer； deny to the flowers their deepening hues； or to winged life
its slumbrous buzzing； as stifle in such a lover his conviction of
fulfilment。 。 。 。
He lay down on a couch； and there stayed a long time quite still；
his forehead pressed against the wall。 His will was already
beginning to recover for a fresh attempt。 It was merciful that she
was going away from Cramier； going to where he had in fancy watched
her feed her doves。 No laws； no fears； not even her commands could
stop his fancy from conjuring her up by day and night。 He had but
to close his eyes； and she was there。
A ring at the bell； repeated several times； roused him at last to
go to the door。 His caller was Robert Cramier。 And at sight of
him； all Lennan's lethargy gave place to a steely feeling。 What
had brought him here？ Had he been spying on his wife？ The old
longing for physical combat came over him。 Cramier was perhaps
fifteen years his senior； but taller； heavier； thicker。 Chances；
then； were pretty equal！
〃Won't you come in？〃 he said。
〃Thanks。〃
The voice had in it the same mockery as on Sunday； and it shot
through him that Cramier had thought to find his wife here。 If so；
he did not betray it by any crude look round。 He came in with his
deliberate step； light and well…poised for so big a man。
〃So this；〃 he said； 〃is where you produce your masterpieces！
Anything great since you came back？〃
Lennan lifted the cloths from the half…modelled figure of his bull…
man。 He felt malicious pleasure in doing that。 Would Cramier
recognize himself in this creature with the horn…like ears； and
great bossed forehead？ If this man who had her happiness beneath
his heel had come here to mock； he should at all events get what he
had come to give。 And he waited。
〃I see。 You are giving the poor brute horns！〃
If Cramier had seen； he had dared to add a touch of cynical humour；
which the sculptor himself had never thought of。 And this even
evoked in the young man a kind of admiring compunction。
〃Those are not horns；〃 he said gently； 〃only ears。〃
Cramier lifted a hand and touched the edge of his own ear。
〃Not quite like that； are theyhuman ears？ But I suppose you
would call this symbolic。 What； if I may ask； does it represent？〃
All the softness in Lennan vanished。
〃If you can't gather that from looking； it must be a failure。〃
〃Not at all。 If I am right； you want something for it to tread on；
don't you； to get your full effect？〃
Lennan touched the base of the clay。
〃The broken curve here〃then； with sudden disgust at this fencing；
was silent。 What had the man come for？ He must want something。
And； as if answering； Cramier said：
〃To pass to another subjectyou see a good deal of my wife。 I
just wanted to tell you that I don't very much care that you
should。 It is as well to be quite frank； I think。〃
Lennan bowed。
〃Is that not；〃 he said； 〃perhaps rather a matter for HER decision？〃
That heavy figurethose threatening eyes！ The whole thing was
like a dream come true！
〃I do not feel it so。 I am not one of those who let things drift。
Please understand me。 You come between us at your peril。〃
Lennan kept silence for a moment； then he said quietly：
〃Can one come between two people who have ceased to have anything
in common？〃
The veins in Cramier's forehead were swollen； his face and neck had
grown crimson。 And Lennan thought with strange elation： Now he's
going to hit me！ He could hardly keep his hands from shooting out
and seizing in advance that great strong neck。 If he could
strangle； and have done with him！
But； quite suddenly； Cramier turned on his heel。 〃I have warned
you；〃 he said； and went。
Lennan took a long breath。 So！ That was over； and he knew where
he was。 If Cramier had struck out； he would surely have seized his
neck and held on till life was gone。 Nothing should have shaken
him off。 In fancy he could see himself swaying； writhing； reeling；
battered about by those heavy fists； but always with his hands on
the thick neck； squeezing out its life。 He could feel； absolutely
feel； the last reel and stagger of that great bulk crashing down；
dragging him with it； till it lay upturned； still。 He covered his
eyes with his hands。 。 。 。 Thank God！ The fellow had not hit out！
He went to the door； opened it； and stood leaning against the door…
post。 All was still and drowsy out there in that quiet backwater
of a street。 Not a soul in sight！ How still； for London！ Only
the birds。 In a neighbouring studio someone was playing Chopin。
Queer！ He had almost forgotten there was such a thing as Chopin。
A mazurka！ Spinning like some top thing； round and roundweird
little tune！ 。 。 。 Well； and what now？ Only one thing certain。
Sooner give up life than give her up！ Far sooner！ Love her；
achieve heror give up everything； and drown to that tune going on
and on； that little dancing dirge of summer！
XVI
At her cottage Olive stood often by the river。
What lay beneath all that bright waterwhat strange； deep；
swaying； life so far below the ruffling of wind； and the shadows of
the willow trees？ Was love down there； too？ Love between sentient
things； where it was almost dark； or had all passion climbed up to
rustle with the reeds； and float with the water…flowers in the
sunlight？ Was there colour？ Or had colour been drowned？ No scent
and no music； but movement there would be； for all the dim groping
things bending one way to the currentmovement； no less than in
the aspen…leaves； n