ows!"

"Oh, yes."

"Kissing--I don't know. I don't know what you're equal to, with that
smooth face of yours."

She halted in her march and stood before him. "I did kiss him. I'm glad.
There is no one so good in the whole world."

She pressed her clasped hands against her throat. "I love him. I loved
him before I promised to marry you. I love him still. No one could help
doing that, I think. But it's different now. It has to be. I'm not his
wife. I went to say--I went there, and I said good-bye to all that. I
came back to you. You needn't be afraid--or jealous any more. I'm your
wife, George, and I'll do my share. I promise." She started on her walk
again, and still he watched the small, white feet.

"And I'm not outraged by what you've said," she went on in a voice he
had not heard so coldly clear. "Men like you are so ready with abuse.
Have you always been virtuous? You ask what you would never allow me to
claim."

He looked up. "Since I married you--since I loved you--And I never
will."

She laughed a little. "And I won't either. That's another bargain, but I
know--I know too much about temptation, about love, to call lovers by
bad names. And if you don't, it's your misfortune, George. I think you'd
better go home and think about it."

He made an uncertain movement. He was like a child, she thought; he had
to be commanded or cajoled, and her heart softened towards him because
he was dumb and helpless.

"Let us be honest friends," she pleaded. "Yes, honest, George. I know
I've talked a lot of honesty, and I had no right; but now I think I
have, because I've told you everything and we can start afresh. I
thought I was better than you, but now I know I'm not, and I'm sorry,
George."

He looked up. "Helen--"

"Well?" She was on her knees before him, and her hands were persuading
his to hold them.

He muttered something.

"I didn't hear."

"I beg your pardon," he said again, and, as she heard the words, she
laughed and cried out, "No, no! I don't want you to say that! You've to
possess me. Honour me, too, but always possess me!" She leaned back to
look at him. "That's what you must do. You are that kind of man, so big
and strong and--and stupid, George! Love me enough, and it will be like
being buried in good earth. Can't you love me enough?" Her eyes were
luminous and tender. She was fighting for two lives, for more that might
be born.

"Buried? I don't know what you mean," he said; "but come you he