to seize him, he wanted to be swept off his feet
and borne powerless in a mighty rush he cared not whither. Miss Chalice
and Lawson seemed to him now somehow different, and the constant
companionship with them made him restless. He was dissatisfied with
himself. Life was not giving him what he wanted, and he had an uneasy
feeling that he was losing his time.

The stout Frenchwoman soon guessed what the relations were between the
couple, and talked of the matter to Philip with the utmost frankness.

"And you," she said, with the tolerant smile of one who had fattened on
the lust of her fellows, "have you got a petite amie?"

"No," said Philip, blushing.

"And why not? C'est de votre age."

He shrugged his shoulders. He had a volume of Verlaine in his hands, and
he wandered off. He tried to read, but his passion was too strong. He
thought of the stray amours to which he had been introduced by Flanagan,
the sly visits to houses in a cul-de-sac, with the drawing-room in
Utrecht velvet, and the mercenary graces of painted women. He shuddered.
He threw himself on the grass, stretching his limbs like a young animal
freshly awaked from sleep; and the rippling water, the poplars gently
tremulous in the faint breeze, the blue sky, were almost more than he
could bear. He was in love with love. In his fancy he felt the kiss of
warm lips on his, and around his neck the touch of soft hands. He imagined
himself in the arms of Ruth Chalice, he thought of her dark eyes and the
wonderful texture of her skin; he was mad to have let such a wonderful
adventure slip through his fingers. And if Lawson had done it why should
not he? But this was only when he did not see her, when he lay awake at
night or dreamed idly by the side of the canal; when he saw her he felt
suddenly quite different; he had no desire to take her in his arms, and he
could not imagine himself kissing her. It was very curious. Away from her
he thought her beautiful, remembering only her magnificent eyes and the
creamy pallor of her face; but when he was with her he saw only that she
was flat-chested and that her teeth were slightly decayed; he could not
forget the corns on her toes. He could not understand himself. Would he
always love only in absence and be prevented from enjoying anything when
he had the chance by that deformity of vision which seemed to exaggerate
the revolting?

He was not sorry when a change in the weather, announcing the definite end
of the lo