o the other side of
the fireplace.

"How nervous you are!" she exclaimed. "Why can you not sit down?"

"Because I wish to stand," he answered, with returning impatience.
"Because I am nervous, if you choose."

"You told me that you were perfectly well."

"So I am."

"If you were perfectly well, you would not be nervous," she replied.

He felt as though she were driving a sharp nail into his brain.

"It does not make any difference to you whether I am nervous or not," he
said, and his eye began to lighten, as he sat down.

"It certainly makes no difference to you whether you are rude or not."

He shrugged his shoulders, said nothing, and smoked in silence. One thin
leg was crossed over the other and swung restlessly.

"Is this sort of thing to last forever?" she inquired coldly, after a
silence which had lasted a full minute.

"I do not know what you mean," said Reanda.

"You know very well what I mean."

"This is insufferable!" he exclaimed, rising suddenly, with his cigar
between his teeth.

"You might take your cigar out of your mouth to say so," retorted
Gloria.

He turned on her, and an exclamation of anger was on his lips, but he
did not utter it. There was a remnant of self-control. Gloria leaned
back in her chair, and took up a carved ivory fan from amongst the
knick-knacks on the little table beside her. She opened it, shut it, and
opened it again, and pretended to fan herself, though the room was cool.

"I should really like to know," she said presently, as he walked up and
down with uneven steps.

"What?" he asked sharply.

"Whether this is to last for the rest of our lives."

"What?"

"This peaceful existence," she said scornfully. "I should really like to
know whether it is to last. Could you not tell me?"

"It will not last long, if you make it your principal business to
torment me," he said, stopping in his walk.

"I?" she exclaimed, with an air of the utmost surprise. "When do I ever
torment you?"

"Whenever I am with you, and you know it."

"Really! You must be ill, or out of your mind, or both. That would be
some excuse for saying such a thing."

"It needs none. It is true." He was becoming exasperated at last. "You
seem to spend your time in finding out how to make life intolerable. You
are driving me mad. I cannot bear it much longer."

"If it comes to bearing, I think I have borne more than you," said
Gloria. "It is not little. You leave me to myself. You neglect me.