. "At least, I almost did it. If I had
stayed a minute longer I'd have done it."

"You like to think you would," mocked Ursula. "But if you had tried to
say the words your lungs would have collapsed, your vocal chords snapped
and your tongue shriveled."

"I am not so damn sure I shan't do it yet," he burst out fiercely.

"But I am," said Ursula, calm, brisk, practical. "What's she going to
do?"

"Going to work."

Ursula laughed joyously. "What a joke! A woman go to work when she
needn't!"

"She is going to work."

"To work another man."

"She meant it."

"How easily women fool men!--even the wise men like you."

"She meant it."

"She still hopes to marry you--or she has heard of your marriage----"

Norman lifted his head. Into his face came the cynical, suspicious
expression.

"And has fastened on some other man. Or perhaps she's found some good
provider who's willing to marry her."

Norman sprang up, his eyes blazing, his mouth working cruelly. "By God!"
he cried. "If I thought that!"

His sister was alarmed. Such a man--in such a delirium--might commit any
absurdity. He flung himself down in despair. "Urse, why can't I get rid
of this thing? It's ruining me. It's killing me!"

"Your good sense tells you if you had her you'd be over it--" She
snapped her fingers--"like that."

"Yes--yes--I know it! But--" He groaned--"she has broken with me."

Ursula went to him and kissed him and took his head in her arms. "What a
_boy_-boy it is!" she said tenderly. "Oh, it must be dreadful to have
always had whatever one wanted and then to find something one can't
have. We women are used to it--and the usual sort of man. But not your
sort, Freddy--and I'm so sorry for you."

"I want her, Urse--I want her," he groaned, and he was almost sobbing.
"My God, I _can't_ get on without her."

"Now, Freddy dear, listen to me. You know she's 'way, 'way beneath
you--that she isn't at all what you've got in the habit of picturing
her--that it's all delusion and nonsense----"

"I want her," he repeated. "I want her."

"You'd be ashamed if you had her as a wife--wouldn't you?"

He was silent.

"She isn't a _lady_."

"I don't know," replied he.

"She hasn't any sense. A low sort of cunning, yes. But not brains--not
enough to hold you."

"I don't know," replied he. "She's got enough for a woman. And--I _want_
her."

"She isn't to be compared with Josephine."

"But I don't want Josephine. I want _her_."

"B