oothed her: she wept on, until the dawn crept in, thinly grey, round
the windows. But when it grew so light that the objects in the room
were recovering their form, she fell asleep, and he hardly dared to
breathe, for fear of disturbing her.

By day, the sensations he had tried to express to her seemed the
figments of the night. He needed only to be absent from her to feel the
old restlessness tug at his heart-strings. At such moments, it seemed
to him ridiculous to torment himself about an infinitesimal flaw in
their love, and one which perhaps existed only in his imagination. To
be with her again was his sole desire; and to feel her cheek on his, to
be free to run his hands through her exciting hair, belonged, when he
was separated from her, to that small category of things for which he
would have bartered his soul.

One evening, towards the end of September, Louise watched for him at
the window. It had been a warm autumn day, rich in varying lights and
shades. Now it was late, nearly half-past six, and still he had not
come: her eyes were tired with staring down the street.

When at last he appeared, she saw that that he was carrying flowers.
Her heart, which, at the sight of him, had set up a glad and violent
beating, settled down again at once, to its normal course. She knew
what the flowers meant: in a spirit of candour, which had something
disarming in it, he invariably brought them when he could not stay long
with her; and she had learned to dread seeing them in his hand.

In very truth, he was barely inside the room before he told her that he
could only stay for an hour. He was to play his trio the following
evening, and now, at the last moment, the 'cellist had been taken ill.
He had spent the greater part of the afternoon looking for a
substitute, and having found one, had still to interview him again, to
let him know the time at which Schwarz had appointed an extra rehearsal
for the next day.

Maurice had mentioned more than once the date of his playing; but it
had never seemed more to Louise than a disturbing outside fact, to be
put out of mind or kissed away. She had forgotten all about it, and the
knowledge of this overcame her disappointment; she tried to atone, by
being reasonable. Maurice had steeled himself against pleadings and
despondency, and was grateful to her for making things easy. He wished
to outdo himself in tender encouragement; but she remained evasive: and
since, in spite of himself,