great passion of protective ownership; I felt that here
was something that I could die to shelter, something that meant more
than joy or pride or splendid ambitions or splendid creation to me, a
new kind of hold upon me, a new power in the world. Some sealed fountain
was opened in my breast. I knew that I could love Isabel broken, Isabel
beaten, Isabel ugly and in pain, more than I could love any sweet
or delightful or glorious thing in life. I didn't care any more for
anything in the world but Isabel, and that I should protect her. I
trembled as I came near her, and could scarcely speak to her for the
emotion that filled me....

"I had your letter," I said.

"I had yours."

"Where can we talk?"

I remember my lame sentences. "We'll have a boat. That's best here."

I took her to the little boat-house, and there we hired a boat, and
I rowed in silence under the bridge and into the shade of a tree. The
square grey stone masses of the Foreign Office loomed through the twigs,
I remember, and a little space of grass separated us from the pathway
and the scrutiny of passers-by. And there we talked.

"I had to write to you," I said.

"I had to come."

"When are you to be married?"

"Thursday week."

"Well?" I said. "But--can we?"

She leant forward and scrutinised my face with eyes wide open. "What do
you mean?" she said at last in a whisper.

"Can we stand it? After all?"

I looked at her white face. "Can you?" I said.

She whispered. "Your career?"

Then suddenly her face was contorted,--she wept silently, exactly as a
child tormented beyond endurance might suddenly weep....

"Oh! I don't care," I cried, "now. I don't care. Damn the whole system
of things! Damn all this patching of the irrevocable! I want to take
care of you, Isabel! and have you with me."

"I can't stand it," she blubbered.

"You needn't stand it. I thought it was best for you.... I thought
indeed it was best for you. I thought even you wanted it like that."

"Couldn't I live alone--as I meant to do?"

"No," I said, "you couldn't. You're not strong enough. I've thought of
that; I've got to shelter you."

"And I want you," I went on. "I'm not strong enough--I can't stand life
without you."

She stopped weeping, she made a great effort to control herself, and
looked at me steadfastly for a moment. "I was going to kill myself," she
whispered. "I was going to kill myself quietly--somehow. I meant to wait
a bit and have an accident