with what?' she murmured, happily.

'With bothering,' he said.

She clung nearer to him. He held her close, and kissed her softly,
gently. It was such peace and heavenly freedom, just to fold her and
kiss her gently, and not to have any thoughts or any desires or any
will, just to be still with her, to be perfectly still and together, in
a peace that was not sleep, but content in bliss. To be content in
bliss, without desire or insistence anywhere, this was heaven: to be
together in happy stillness.

For a long time she nestled to him, and he kissed her softly, her hair,
her face, her ears, gently, softly, like dew falling. But this warm
breath on her ears disturbed her again, kindled the old destructive
fires. She cleaved to him, and he could feel his blood changing like
quicksilver.

'But we'll be still, shall we?' he said.

'Yes,' she said, as if submissively.

And she continued to nestle against him.

But in a little while she drew away and looked at him.

'I must be going home,' she said.

'Must you--how sad,' he replied.

She leaned forward and put up her mouth to be kissed.

'Are you really sad?' she murmured, smiling.

'Yes,' he said, 'I wish we could stay as we were, always.'

'Always! Do you?' she murmured, as he kissed her. And then, out of a
full throat, she crooned 'Kiss me! Kiss me!' And she cleaved close to
him. He kissed her many times. But he too had his idea and his will. He
wanted only gentle communion, no other, no passion now. So that soon
she drew away, put on her hat and went home.

The next day however, he felt wistful and yearning. He thought he had
been wrong, perhaps. Perhaps he had been wrong to go to her with an
idea of what he wanted. Was it really only an idea, or was it the
interpretation of a profound yearning? If the latter, how was it he was
always talking about sensual fulfilment? The two did not agree very
well.

Suddenly he found himself face to face with a situation. It was as
simple as this: fatally simple. On the one hand, he knew he did not
want a further sensual experience--something deeper, darker, than
ordinary life could give. He remembered the African fetishes he had
seen at Halliday's so often. There came back to him one, a statuette
about two feet high, a tall, slim, elegant figure from West Africa, in
dark wood, glossy and suave. It was a woman, with hair dressed high,
like a melon-shaped dome. He remembered her vividly: she was one of his
soul's int