all the other couples sink into insignificance； with that something
in them both that was better than mere good looksthat something
not outre or eccentric； but poignant； wayward。 They went well
together； those two Dromoreshis dark head and her fair head； his
clear； brown； daring eyes； and her grey； languorous； mesmeric eyes。
Ah！ Master Oliver was happy now； with her so close to him！ It was
not jealousy that Lennan felt。 Not quiteone did not feel jealous
of the young； something very deeppride； sense of proportion； who
knew whatprevented that。 She； too； looked happy； as if her soul
were dancing； vibrating with the music and the scent of the
flowers。 He waited for her to come round once more； to get for a
last time that flying glance turned back； then found his coat and
hat and went。
XIII
Outside； he walked a few steps； then stood looking back at the
windows of the hall through some trees； the shadows of whose
trunks； in the light of a street lamp； were spilled out along the
ground like the splines of a fan。 A church clock struck eleven。
For hours yet she would be there； going round and round in the arms
of Youth！ Try as he might he could never recapture for himself the
look that Oliver's face had wornthe look that was the symbol of
so much more than he himself could give her。 Why had she come into
his lifeto her undoing； and his own？ And the bizarre thought
came to him： If she were dead should I really care？ Should I not
be almost glad？ If she were dead her witchery would be dead； and I
could stand up straight again and look people in the face！ What
was this power that played with men； darted into them； twisted
their hearts to rags； this power that had looked through her eyes
when she put her fan； with his flowers； to her lips？
The thrumming of the music ceased； he walked away。
It must have been nearly twelve when he reached home。 Now； once
more； would begin the gruesome process of deceptionflinching of
soul； and brazening of visage。 It would be better when the whole
thievish business was irretrievably begun and ordered in its secret
courses！
There was no light in the drawing…room； save just the glow of the
fire。 If only Sylvia might have gone to bed！ Then he saw her；
sitting motionless out there by the uncurtained window。
He went over to her； and began his hateful formula：
〃I'm afraid you've been lonely。 I had to stay rather late。 A dull
evening。〃 And； since she did not move or answer； but just sat
there very still and white； he forced himself to go close； bend
down to her； touch her cheek； even to kneel beside her。 She looked
round then； her face was quiet enough； but her eyes were strangely
eager。 With a pitiful little smile she broke out：
〃Oh； Mark！ What is itwhat is it？ Anything is better than this！〃
Perhaps it was the smile； perhaps her voice or eyesbut something
gave way in Lennan。 Secrecy； precaution went by the board。 Bowing
his head against her breast； he poured it all out； while they
clung； clutched together in the half dark like two frightened
children。 Only when he had finished did he realize that if she had
pushed him away； refused to let him touch her； it would have been
far less piteous； far easier to bear； than her wan face and her
hands clutching him； and her words： 〃I never thoughtyou and I
oh！ Markyou and I〃 The trust in their life together； in
himself； that those words revealed！ Yet； not greater than he had
hadstill had！ She could not understandhe had known that she
could never understand； it was why he had fought so for secrecy；
all through。 She was taking it as if she had lost everything； and
in his mind she had lost nothing。 This passion； this craving for
Youth and Life； this madnesscall it what one wouldwas something
quite apart； not touching his love and need of her。 If she would
only believe that！ Over and over he repeated it； over and over
again perceived that she could not take it in。 The only thing she
saw was that his love had gone from her to anotherthough that was
not true！ Suddenly she broke out of his arms； pushing him from
her； and cried： 〃That girlhateful； horrible； false！〃 Never had
he seen her look like this； with flaming spots in her white cheeks；
soft lips and chin distorted； blue eyes flaming； breast heaving； as
if each breath were drawn from lungs that received no air。 And
then； as quickly； the fire went out of her； she sank down on the
sofa； covering her face with her arms； rocking to and fro。 She did
not cry； but a little moan came from her now and then。 And each
one of those sounds was to Lennan like the cry of something he was
murdering。 At last he went and sat down on the sofa by her and
said：
〃Sylvia！ Sylvia！ Don't！ oh！ don't！〃 And she was silent； ceasing
to rock herself； letting him smooth and stroke her。 But her face
she kept hidden； and only once she spoke； so low that he could
hardly hear： 〃I can'tI won't keep you from her。〃 And with the
awful feeling that no words could reach or soothe the wound in that
tender heart； he could only go on stroking and kissing her hands。
It was atrocioushorriblethis that he had done！ God knew that
he had not sought itthe thing had come on him。 Surely even in
her misery she could see that！ Deep down beneath his grief and
self…hatred； he knew； what neither she nor anyone else could know
that he could not have prevented this feeling； which went back to
days before he ever saw the girlthat no man could have stopped
that feeling in himself。 This craving and roving was as much part
of him as his eyes and hands； as overwhelming and natural a longing
as his hunger for work； or his need of the peace that Sylvia gave；
and alone could give him。 That was the tragedyit was all sunk
and rooted in the very nature of a man。 Since the girl had come
into their lives he was no more unfaithful to his wife in thought
than he had been before。 If only she could look into him； see him
exactly as he was； as； without part or lot in the process； he had
been madethen she would understand； and even might not suffer；
but she could not； and he could never make it plain。 And solemnly；
desperately； with a weary feeling of the futility of words； he went
on trying： Could she not see？ It was all a thing outside hima
craving； a chase after beauty and life； after his own youth！ At
that word she looked at him：
〃And do you think I don't want my youth back？〃
He stopped。
For a woman to feel that her beautythe brightness of her hair and
eyes； the grace and suppleness of her limbswere slipping from her
and from the man she loved！ Was there anything more bitter？or
any more sacred duty than not to add to that bitterness； not to
push her with suffering into old age； but to help keep the star of
her faith in her charm intact！
Man and womanthey both wanted youth again； she； that she might
give it all to him； he； because it would help him towards
somethingnew！ Just that world of difference！
He got up； and said：
〃Come； dear； let's try and sleep。〃
He had not once said that he could give it up。 The words would not
pass his lips； though he knew she must be conscious that he had not
said them； must be longing to hear them。 All he had been able to
say was：
〃So long as you want me； you shall never lose me〃 。 。 。 and； 〃I
will never keep anything from you again。〃
Up in their room she lay hour after hour in his arms； quite
unresentful； but without life in her； and with eyes that； when his
lips touched them； were always wet。
What a maze was a man's heart； wherein he must lose himself every
minute！ What involved and intricate turnings and turnings on
itself； what fugitive replacement of emotion by emotion！ What
strife between pities and passions； what longing for peace！ 。 。 。
And in his feverish exhaustion； which was almost sleep； Lennan
hardly knew whether it was the thrum of music or Sylvia's moaning
that he heard； her body or Nell's within his arms。 。 。 。
But life had to be lived； a face preserved against the world；
engagements kept。 And the nightmare went on for both of them；
under the calm surface of an ordinary Sunday。 They were like
people walking at the edge of a high cliff； not knowing from step
to step whether they would fall； or like swimmers struggling for
issue out of a dark whirlpool。
In the afternoon they went together to a concert； it was just
something to dosomething that saved them for an hour or two from
the possibility of speaking on the one subject left to them。 The
ship had gone down； and they were clutching at anything that for a
moment would help to keep them above water。
In the evening some people came to supper； a writer and two
painters； with their wives。 A grim eveningnever more so than
when the conversation turned on that perennial themethe freedom；
spiritual； mental； physical； requisite for those who practise Art。
All the stale arguments were brought forth； and had to be joined in
with unmoved faces。 And for all their talk of freedom； Lennan
could see the volte…face his friends would be making； if they only
knew。 It was not 'the thing' to seduce young girlsas if；
forsooth； there were freedom in doing only what people thought 'the
thing'！ Their cant about the free artist spirit experiencing
everything； would wither the moment it came up against a canon of
'good form；' so that in truth it was no freer than the bourgeois
spirit； with its conventions； or the priest spirit； with its cry of
'Sin！' No； no！ To resistif resistance were possible to this
dragging powermaxims of 'good form；' dogmas of religion and
morality； were no helpnothing was any help； but some feeling
stronger than passion itself。 Sylvia's face； forced to smile！
that； indeed was a reason why they should condemn him！ None of
their doctrines about freedom could explain that awaythe harm；
the death that came to a man's soul when he made a loving； faithful
creature suffer。
But they were gone at lastwith their 〃Thanks so much！〃 and their
〃Delightful evening！〃
And those two were face to face for another night。
He knew that it must begin all over againinevitable； after the
stab of that wretched argument plunged into their hearts and turned
and