ses combined with instinctive prudence, had not created it--I can't
say that--but had discovered it to the very people involved. What would
have happened if he had made a noise about his discovery? But he
didn't. His head was full of Mrs Anthony and he behaved with a
discretion beyond his years. Some nice children often do; and surely it
is not from reflection. They have their own inspirations. Young
Powell's inspiration consisted in being "enthusiastic" about Mrs
Anthony. `Enthusiastic' is really good. And he was amongst them like a
child, sensitive, impressionable, plastic--but unable to find for
himself any sort of comment.

I don't know how much mine may be worth; but I believe that just then
the tension of the false situation was at its highest. Of all the forms
offered to us by life it is the one demanding a couple to realise it
fully, which is the most imperative. Pairing off is the fate of
mankind. And if two beings thrown together, mutually attracted, resist
the necessity, fail in understanding and voluntarily stop short of the--
the embrace, in the noblest meaning of the word, then they are
committing a sin against life, the call of which is simple. Perhaps
sacred. And the punishment of it is an invasion of complexity, a
tormenting, forcibly tortuous involution of feelings, the deepest form
of suffering from which indeed something significant may come at last,
which may be criminal or heroic, may be madness or wisdom--or even a
straight if despairing decision.

Powell on taking his eyes off the old gentleman noticed Captain Anthony,
swarthy as an African, by the side of Flora whiter than the lilies, take
his handkerchief out and wipe off his forehead the sweat of anguish--
like a man who is overcome. "And no wonder," commented Mr Powell here.
Then the captain said, "Hadn't you better go back to your room." This
was to Mrs Anthony. He tried to smile at her. "Why do you look
startled? This night is like any other night."

"Which," Powell again commented to me earnestly, "was a lie... No
wonder he sweated." You see from this the value of Powell's comments.
Mrs Anthony then said: "Why are you sending me away?"

"Why! That you should go to sleep. That you should rest." And Captain
Anthony frowned. Then sharply, "You stay here, Mr Powell. I shall
want you presently."

As a matter of fact Powell had not moved. Flora did not mind his
presence. He himself had the feeling of being of no a