ose
to a height above herself. What happened to her own heart did not matter
so long as he was happy, and had all that he wanted with her and away
from her--if need be, always away from her.

But, when he had gone to sleep, a terrible time began; for in the small
hours, when things are at their worst, she could not keep back her
weeping, though she smothered it into the pillow. It woke him, and all
began again; the burden of her cry: "It's gone!" the burden of his: "It's
NOT--can't you see it isn't?" Till, at last, that awful feeling that he
must knock his head against the wall made him leap up and tramp up and
down like a beast in a cage--the cage of the impossible. For, as in all
human tragedies, both were right according to their natures. She gave
him all herself, wanted all in return, and could not have it. He wanted
her, the rest besides, and no complaining, and could not have it. He did
not admit impossibility; she did.

At last came another of those pitying lulls till he went to sleep in her
arms. Long she lay awake, staring at the darkness, admitting despair,
trying to find how to bear it, not succeeding. Impossible to cut his
other life away from him--impossible that, while he lived it, this girl
should not be tugging him away from her. Impossible to watch and
question him. Impossible to live dumb and blind, accepting the crumbs
left over, showing nothing. Would it have been better if they had been
married? But then it might have been the same--reversed; perhaps worse!
The roots were so much deeper than that. He was not single-hearted and
she was. In spite of all that he said, she knew he didn't really want to
give up that girl. How could he? Even if the girl would let him go!
And slowly there formed within her a gruesome little plan to test him.
Then, ever so gently withdrawing her arms, she turned over and slept,
exhausted.

Next morning, remorselessly carrying out that plan, she forced herself to
smile and talk as if nothing had happened, watching the relief in his
face, his obvious delight at the change, with a fearful aching in her
heart. She waited till he was ready to go down, and then, still smiling,
said:

"Forget all about yesterday, darling. Promise me you won't let it make
any difference. You must keep up your friendship; you mustn't lose
anything. I shan't mind; I shall be quite happy." He knelt down and
leaned his forehead against her waist. And, stroking his hair, she
rep