olution of the salon and of their relation. They were both, at
times, terribly tired of life: with no strenuous occupation, the word of
Nietzsche and of world pessimism, of excessive individuality, tortured
their nerves and made everything seem of no avail.

Work takes one away from life, is a buffer between sensitive nerves and
intensest experience. Strong natures who for some reason are dislocated
and therefore do not work, or work only fragmentarily, come too much in
contact with life and often cannot bear it; it burns and palls at once.
So it was with Terry and Marie. Without either work or children, they
were forced into strenuous personal relations with one another and into
a feverish relation with "life."

"I feel so depressed," she wrote; "so many things have happened this
last year which seemed trivial at the time, but have had big results,
while other things which seemed events have turned out to be only
incidents, and very small ones. Thus, a careless remark of mine
resulted in a quarrel between Terry and me which did not lessen with
time, but grew larger and larger, until now the relations of us two
idyllic lovers are anything but pleasant. And a very serious attack of
love from which I suffered last summer has passed as quickly and lightly
as a breath of wind, while another light love of mine, which came to me
last February, has assumed large proportions simply because I have been
abused for it by Terry, whom no one could ever displace in my heart. I
was bound to defend my lover from the attacks of Terry, whom I had
always regarded as above such a common display of irritation in such
matters. So this other man became a sort of ideal lover in my mind, and
all because of Terry's opposition. This man had wooed me in a great,
glorious, godless fashion. He was a big man in the labour world, and he
flattered me immensely, but I should never have cared for him, if
Terry's nature had not suddenly seemed to weaken....

"I have been so uneasy about Terry lately. He has been talking so much
about joining the criminal class. He seems to be losing his interest in
our movement and to be looking for some other way of escape, as he
calls it. He says his liberty is only a figment of his mind, that he has
now reached the time for which he had all along been unconsciously
preparing himself. I am, of course, used to this kind of talk from
Terry. He has been in the depths of despondency often enough, but
nothing ever came of