you,
die just to have you take my big coat off once more, and catch me in
your arms, as you used to do when we came back from dinner or the
theatre! But one can't go on suffering that way," said Julia, giving him
a swift, uncertain smile, "and gradually the pain goes, and the fever
dies away, and nothing is left but the cold, white scar!"

Jim had been staring at her like a man in a trance. Now he took a step
toward her, lightly caught her in one big arm.

"Ah, but Julia, wouldn't the love come back?" he asked tenderly, his
face close to her own. "Couldn't it all be forgotten and forgiven?
You've suffered, dear, but I've suffered, too. Can't we comfort each
other?"

"Please don't do that," Julia said coldly, wrenching herself free. "This
is no whim with me; I'm not following a certain line of conduct because
it's most effective. I've changed. I don't want to analyze and dissect
and discuss it; as I say, it seems to me too sacred, too sad, to enjoy
talking about!"

"You've not changed!" Jim asserted. "Women don't change that way."

"Then I'm not like other women," Julia said hotly. "Do believe me, Jim.
It's all just gone out of my life. You don't seem like the man I loved,
who was so sweet and generous to me. I've not forgotten that old
wonderful time; I just don't connect you with it. You could kiss me a
thousand times now, and it would only seem like--well, like any one
else! I look at you as one might look on some old school friend, and
wonder if I ever really loved you!"

She stopped, looking at him almost in appeal. Jim stood quite still,
staring fixedly at her; they remained so for a long minute.

"I see," he said then, very quietly. "I'm sorry."

And without another word he turned to the hall door and was gone. Julia
stood still in the hall for a few minutes, curiously numb. All this was
very terrible, very far reaching in its results, very important, but she
could not feel it now. She did feel very tired, exhausted in every fibre
of her body, confused and weary in mind. She put her head in the kitchen
door only long enough to say that she was not hungry, and went upstairs
to fling herself on her bed, grateful for silence and solitude at last.

To Jim the world was turned upside down. He could hardly credit his
senses. His was not a quick brain; processes of thought with him were
slow and ruminative; he liked to be alone while he was thinking. When he
left Julia he went down to his club, found a chair b