have
been the subconscious knowledge that where one can hurt one can conquer
that dominated his actions. While she resented the invulnerability with
which he guarded his own feelings, it is probable that any different
attitude on his part would have brought forth a more active unkindness on
hers. When men and women love, strange paradoxes are found.

They went to the door together, and in the brighter light of the hall
Elise saw for the first time that he was considerably thinner, and that
his brow was like marble. She felt a little stab of pity for him,
forgetting his own lack of sympathy towards herself; she caught a faint
realisation of what he must have endured for it to have marked him so
indelibly.

'Don't you think,' she said, 'that you ought to go to the seaside for a
while? You are not looking at all well.'

His lips grew firmer, but there was a curious look in his eyes as he
turned towards her. 'I have work to do here,' he said crisply.

'I know--but surely'----

'In London,' he said--and there was a suggestion of the fanatic's ecstasy
in his voice--'it is impossible to forget life. I don't want my mind
soothed or lulled. You can always hear the challenge of the human
destiny in London. It cries out to you everywhere. It'---- He had held
his head erect, and had spoken louder than was his custom; but, checking
himself, he made a queer, dramatic gesture with his hands.

The fire of his spirit swept over her. Once more she stood close to him,
as she had done so many times in her thoughts. She did not know whether
she loved or detested him. She was fascinated--trembling--longing for
him to force her to surrender in his arms--knowing that she would hate
him if he did. She gave a little cry as Selwyn, almost as if he read her
conflicting thoughts, took her arms with his hands once more.

'If we had both been English,' he said, and his voice was so parched that
it seemed to have been scorched by his spirit, 'or if we had met in other
times than these, things might have been different. I know what you
think of me for the work I am doing, but it would be as impossible for me
to give it up as for you to think as I do. We come of two different
worlds, you and I. . . . I am sorry we have met to-night. For me, at
least, it has reopened old wounds. And it is all so useless.'

She made no reply; but as his eyes were lowered to her face, and he saw
once more the trembling lips, her unsoiled womanlin