there； a straw going round and round； a midge in the grip of a mad
wind。 Where was the home of this mighty secret feeling that sprang
so suddenly out of the dark； and caught you by the throat？ Why did
it come now and not then； for this one and not that other？ What
did man know of it； save that it made him spin and hoverlike a
moth intoxicated by a light； or a bee by some dark sweet flower；
save that it made of him a distraught； humble； eager puppet of its
fancy？ Had it not once already driven him even to the edge of
death； and must it now come on him again with its sweet madness；
its drugging scent？ What was it？ Why was it？ Why these
passionate obsessions that could not decently be satisfied？ Had
civilization so outstripped man that his nature was cramped into
shoes too smalllike the feet of a Chinese woman？ What was it？
Why was it？
And faster than ever he walked away。
Pall Mall brought him back to that counterfeit presentment of the
realreality。 There； in St。 James's Street； was Johnny Dromore's
Club； and； again moved by impulse； he pushed open its swing door。
No need to ask； for there was Dromore in the hall； on his way from
dinner to the card…room。 The glossy tan of hard exercise and good
living lay on his cheeks as thick as clouted cream。 His eyes had
the peculiar shine of superabundant vigour； a certain sub…festive
air in face and voice and movements suggested that he was going to
make a night of it。 And the sardonic thought flashed through
Lennan： Shall I tell him？
〃Hallo； old chap！ Awfully glad to see you！ What you doin' with
yourself？ Workin' hard？ How's your wife？ You been away？ Been
doin' anything great？〃 And then the question that would have given
him his chance； if he had liked to be so cruel：
〃Seen Nell？〃
〃Yes； she came round this afternoon。〃
〃What d'you think of her？ Comin' on nicely； isn't she？〃
That old query； half furtive and half proud； as much as to say： 'I
know she's not in the stud…book； but； dn it； I sired her！' And
then the old sudden gloom； which lasted but a second； and gave way
again to chaff。
Lennan stayed very few minutes。 Never had he felt farther from his
old school…chum。
No。 Whatever happened； Johnny Dromore must be left out。 It was a
position he had earned with his goggling eyes； and his astute
philosophy； from it he should not be disturbed。
He passed along the railings of the Green Park。 On the cold air of
this last October night a thin haze hung； and the acrid fragrance
from little bonfires of fallen leaves。 What was there about that
scent of burned…leaf smoke that had always moved him so？ Symbol of
parting！that most mournful thing in all the world。 For what
would even death be； but for parting？ Sweet； long sleep； or new
adventure。 But； if a man loved othersto leave them； or be left！
Ah！ and it was not death only that brought partings！
He came to the opening of the street where Dromore lived。 She
would be there； sitting by the fire in the big chair； playing with
her kitten； thinking； dreaming； andalone！ He passed on at such a
pace that people stared； till； turning the last corner for home； he
ran almost into the arms of Oliver Dromore。
The young man was walking with unaccustomed indecision； his fur
coat open； his opera…hat pushed up on his crisp hair。 Dark under
the eyes； he had not the proper gloss of a Dromore at this season
of the year。
〃Mr。 Lennan！ I've just been round to you。〃
And Lennan answered dazedly：
〃Will you come in； or shall I walk your way a bit？〃
〃I'd ratherout here； if you don't mind。〃
So in silence they went back into the Square。 And Oliver said：
〃Let's get over by the rails。〃
They crossed to the railings of the Square's dark garden； where
nobody was passing。 And with every step Lennan's humiliation grew。
There was something false and undignified in walking with this
young man who had once treated him as a father confessor to his
love for Nell。 And suddenly he perceived that they had made a
complete circuit of the Square garden without speaking a single
word。
〃Yes？〃 he said。
Oliver turned his face away。
〃You remember what I told you in the summer。 Well； it's worse now。
I've been going a mucker lately in all sorts of ways to try and get
rid of it。 But it's all no good。 She's got me！〃
And Lennan thought： You're not alone in that！ But he kept silence。
His chief dread was of saying something that he would remember
afterwards as the words of Judas。
Then Oliver suddenly burst out：
〃Why can't she care？ I suppose I'm nothing much； but she's known
me all her life； and she used to like me。 There's somethingI
can't make out。 Could you do anything for me with her？〃
Lennan pointed across the street。
〃In every other one of those houses； Oliver；〃 he said； 〃there's
probably some creature who can't make out why another creature
doesn't care。 Passion comes when it will； goes when it will； and
we poor devils have no say in it。〃
〃What do you advise me； then？〃
Lennan had an almost overwhelming impulse to turn on his heel and
leave the young man standing there。 But he forced himself to look
at his face； which even then had its attractionperhaps more so
than ever； so pallid and desperate it was。 And he said slowly；
staring mentally at every word：
〃I'm not up to giving you advice。 The only thing I might say is：
One does not press oneself where one isn't wanted； all the same
who knows？ So long as she feels you're there； waiting； she might
turn to you at any moment。 The more chivalrous you are； Oliver；
the more patiently you wait； the better chance you have。〃
Oliver took those words of little comfort without flinching。 〃I
see；〃 he said。 〃Thanks！ But； my God！ it's hard。 I never could
wait。〃 And with that epigram on himself； holding out his hand； he
turned away。
Lennan went slowly home； trying to gauge exactly how anyone who
knew all would judge him。 It was a little difficult in this affair
to keep a shred of dignity。
Sylvia had not gone up； and he saw her looking at him anxiously。
The one strange comfort in all this was that his feeling for her；
at any rate； had not changed。 It seemed even to have deepenedto
be more real to him。
How could he help staying awake that night？ How could he help
thinking； then？ And long time he lay； staring at the dark。
As if thinking were any good for fever in the veins！
X
Passion never plays the game。 It； at all events； is free from
self…consciousness； and pride； from dignity； nerves； scruples；
cant； moralities； from hypocrisies； and wisdom； and fears for
pocket； and position in this world and the next。 Well did the old
painters limn it as an arrow or a wind！ If it had not been as
swift and darting； Earth must long ago have drifted through space
untenantedto let。 。 。 。
After that fevered night Lennan went to his studio at the usual
hour and naturally did not do a stroke of work。 He was even
obliged to send away his model。 The fellow had been his
hairdresser； but； getting ill； and falling on dark days； one
morning had come to the studio； to ask with manifest shame if his
head were any good。 After having tested his capacity for standing
still； and giving him some introductions； Lennan had noted him
down： 〃Five feet nine； good hair； lean face； something tortured and
pathetic。 Give him a turn if possible。〃 The turn had come； and
the poor man was posing in a painful attitude； talking； whenever
permitted； of the way things had treated him； and the delights of
cutting hair。 This morning he took his departure with the simple
pleasure of one fully paid for services not rendered。
And so； walking up and down； up and down； the sculptor waited for
Nell's knock。 What would happen now？ Thinking had made nothing
clear。 Here was offered what every warm…blooded man whose Spring
is past desiresyouth and beauty； and in that youth a renewal of
his own； what all men save hypocrites and Englishmen would even
admit that they desired。 And it was offered to one who had neither
religious nor moral scruples； as they are commonly understood。 In
theory he could accept。 In practice he did not as yet know what he
could do。 One thing only he had discovered during the night's
reflections： That those who scouted belief in the principle of
Liberty made no greater mistake than to suppose that Liberty was
dangerous because it made a man a libertine。 To those with any
decency； the creed of Freedom wasof allthe most enchaining。
Easy enough to break chains imposed by others； fling his cap over
the windmill； and cry for the moment at least： I am unfettered；
free！ Hard； indeed； to say the same to his own unfettered Self！
Yes； his own Self was in the judgment…seat； by his own verdict and
decision he must abide。 And though he ached for the sight of her；
and his will seemed paralyzedmany times already he had thought：
It won't do！ God help me！
Then twelve o'clock had come； and she had not。 Would 'The Girl on
the Magpie Horse' be all he would see of her to…daythat
unsatisfying work； so cold； and devoid of witchery？ Better have
tried to paint herwith a red flower in her hair； a pout on her
lips； and her eyes fey； or languorous。 Goya could have painted
her！
And then； just as he had given her up； she came。
After taking one look at his face； she slipped in ever so quietly；
like a very good child。 。 。 。 Marvellous the instinct and finesse
of the young when they are women！ 。 。 。 Not a vestige in her of
yesterday's seductive power； not a sign that there had been a
yesterday at alljust confiding； like a daughter。 Sitting there；
telling him about Ireland； showing him the little batch of drawings
she had done while she was away。 Had she brought them because she
knew they would make him feel sorry for her？ What could have been
less dangerous； more appealing to the protective and paternal side
of him than she was that morning； as if she only wanted what her
father and her home could not give heronly wanted to be a sort of
daughter to him！
She went away demurely； as she had come； refusing to stay to lunch；
manifestly avoiding Sylvia。 Only then he realized that she must
have taken alarm from the look of