at the mere contact. She was leaning back, fanning herself with her program, and he observed the roundness and whiteness of her neck, the flesh of her shoulder showing through the transparent sleeve of her blouse, the moistness and warmth of her open lips. Yet she had told him at Rodchurch Road Station that she was attractive only to his eyes, and that she could never again arouse desire in other men. What utter nonsense! She was simply adorable. VII THEY took a cab to drive back in, and he almost carried her up to their bedroom. It was on the same floor as the other room, with the same marvelous bird's-eye view of the starlit sky and the lamplit town. He had got her to himself at last—here, high above the world, half-way to heaven. There seemed to him something poetical, almost sublime in their situation: they two alone, isolated, millions of people surrounding them and no living creature able to interfere with them. As he knew, they were the only lodgers on this top floor; and so one need not even trouble to avoid making a noise. He gave full voice to his exultation. 66 There, old lady." He had opened the window as wide as it would go, and he told her to look out. “The air-what there is of it-will do you good." "Oh, I couldn't," and she recoiled. "Giddy?" "Giddy isn't the word. Oh, Will, why did you let me drink that stuff-after drinking the wine?" "I thought you'd got a better head-piece. Look at me. I could 'a' stood two or three more goes at it, and bin none the worse." And he chaffed her merrily. "Here's a tale-if it ever leaks out Rodchurch way. Have you heard how Mrs. Dale behaved up in London? Went to the theater, and drunk more'n was good for her. Came out fair squiffy-so's poor Mr. Dale, he felt quite disgraced." She was not intoxicated in an ugly way; her speech, her movements were unaffected, and yet the alcohol was troubling her brain. She looked like a child who has been overexercised at a children's party, and who comes home with eyebrows raised, eyes glowing and yet dull, and cheeks very pale. “Oh, dear, I am tired," and she sat down on a chair by the chest of drawers, and slowly took off her hat. But she got up again and pushed Dale away, when he offered to help her in undressing. "No, certainly not. What are you thinking of?" and she began to hum one of the pretty airs they had heard at the theater. "But, my word, Will,” and she stopped humming, and laughed foolishly, "I shan't be sorry to get out of my things. It is hot. This is the hottest night we've had." "Ah, you feel it. I've got acclim'tized." He undressed rapidly, and lighting the briar pipe which he had not cared to smoke in the genteel society at the theater, he lay on the outside of the bed. "Better now, old girl?" "Yes. I'm all right, Will. Dear old boy-I'm all right." Lying on the bed and immensely enjoying his delayed pipe, he watched her. She wandered about the room, moved one of the two candles from the mantelshelf to the chest of drawers, put her blouse on the seat of a chair and her skirt across the back of it. Then with slow graceful movements she began to uncoil her hair, and as her smooth white arms went up and down, the candlelight sent gigantic wavering shadows across the wall-paper to the ceiling. Beneath one of her elbows he could see right out through the open window into a dark void. From his position on the bed nothing was visible out there, but he could fill it if he cared to do so the scattered dust of street lamps below and the scattered dust of solar systems above. Soon he puffed lazily, drowsily; then he nodded, and then the pipe fell from his mouth. "Hullo!" And muttering, he roused himself. "I must 'a' dropped off. Might 'a' set the bed on fire.” Mavis, in her chemise and stockings now, with her hair down, was still at the dressing-table. She did not turn when he spoke to her. While he dozed she had fetched the other candle, and in the double light she was staring intently at the reflection of her face in the looking-glass. Dale slipped softly off the bed, moved across to the dressing-table, and with explosive vigor clasped her in his arms. 66 "Oh, how you frightened me!" She had given a little squeal, and she tried to release herself. "Let me go-please." "Rot!" And he lifted her from the ground, and carried her across to the bed. "Will-let me go. I—I'm tired;" and she began to cry. "Be kind to me, Will." The words came in feeble entreaty, between weak sobs. "Be kind to memy husband-not only now--but always." She sobbed and shivered; and he, holding her in his arms, soothed her with gentle murmurs. "My pretty Mav! My poor little bird. Go to sleepy-by, then. Tuck her up, and send her to sleep, a dear little Mav." At the touch of her coldly trembling limbs, at the sight of her tears, all the sensual desire lessened its throb, and the purer side of his love began to subjugate him. That was the greatest of her powers-to tame the beast in him, to lift him from the depths to the heights, to make him feel as though he was her father instead of her lover, because she herself was pure and good as a child. "There-there, don't cry, my pretty Mav." And she, melting beneath the gentleness and tenderness of his caresses, wept in pity of herself. "Yes, I'm tired-dead-tired." And the tears flowed unchecked, blotting out emotion, reason, instinct, swamping her in floods of self-pity. "Let me sleep-and let me forget. Oh, let me forget what I've gone through these last two days." "Anyways, it's over now." "Yes, it's over. Oh, thank God in Heaven, it's over and done with." "Just so." And there was a change in the tone of his voice that she might have noticed, but did not. "Just so-but you're talking rather strange, come to think of it." His arms slowly relaxed, and he let her slide out of his embrace. She sank down wearily upon the pillow, closed her eyes, and for a little while went on talking drowsily and inconsecutively. "Shut up," he said suddenly. "Hold your tongue. I'm thinking." Then almost immediately he turned, and, with his hands upon her shoulders, looked down into her face. 66 'Why didn't you go to church yesterday?" What did you say, Will?” "I said, why didn't you go to church yesterday?" "Oh-I really didn't care to go." |