t long for you so terribly that I can hardly live."

"And do you think that I don't long for you?"

"Then come to me!"

She looked at him mournfully and shook her head.

Well, he had known that she would not. He had not earned her. What right
had he to ask her to fly against the world, to brave everything, to have
such faith in him--as yet? He had no heart to press his words, beginning
then to understand the paralyzing truth that there was no longer any
resolving this or that; with love like his he had ceased to be a separate
being with a separate will. He was entwined with her, could act only if
her will and his were one. He would never be able to say to her: 'You
must!' He loved her too much. And she knew it. So there was nothing
for it but to forget the ache, and make the hour happy. But how about
that other truth--that in love there is no pause, no resting? . . .
With any watering, however scant, the flower will grow till its time
comes to be plucked. . . . This oasis in the desert--these few minutes
with her alone, were swept through and through with a feverish wind. To
be closer! How not try to be that? How not long for her lips when he
had but her hand to kiss? And how not be poisoned with the thought that
in a few minutes she would leave him and go back to the presence of that
other, who, even though she loathed him, could see and touch her when he
would? She was leaning back in the very chair where in fancy he had seen
her, and he only dared sit at her feet and look up. And this, which a
week ago would have been rapture, was now almost torture, so far did it
fall short of his longing. It was torture, too, to keep his voice in
tune with the sober sweetness of her voice. And bitterly he thought: How
can she sit there, and not want me, as I want her? Then at a touch of
her fingers on his hair, he lost control, and kissed her lips. Her
surrender lasted only for a second.

"No, no--you must not!"

That mournful surprise sobered him at once.

He got up, stood away from her, begged to be forgiven.

And, when she was gone, he sat in the chair where she had sat. That clasp
of her, the kiss he had begged her to forget--to forget!--nothing could
take that from him. He had done wrong; had startled her, had fallen
short of chivalry! And yet--a smile of utter happiness would cling about
his lips. His fastidiousness, his imagination almost made him think that
this was all he wanted. If he could cl