a queer little touch of relief all mixing in her voice.

"But Ollie, if you can't _trust_ me about something as little as that."

"It isn't that," he says beatenly and she knows it isn't. And knowing,
her voice becomes suddenly frightened--the fright of a child who has let
something as fragile and precious as a vessel of golden glass slip out
of her hands.

"But, Ollie dear! But, Ollie, I never meant it that way. But Ollie, I
love you!"

He takes her in his arms again and they kiss long. This time though
there is no peace in the kiss, only the lost passion of bodies tired
beyond speech. "Do you love me, Nancy?"

Again she has to decide--and the truth that will not matter for more
than the hour wins. Besides, he has hurt her.

"Oh, Ollie, Ollie, yes, but--"

"You're not sure any more?"

"It's different."

"It's not being certain?"

"Not the way it was at first--but, Ollie, we're neither of us the
same--"

"Then you _aren't_ sure?"

"I can't--I haven't--oh, Ollie, I don't know, I don't know!"

"That means you know."

Again the kiss but this time their lips only hurt against each
other--Oliver feels for a ghastly instant as if he were kissing Nancy
after she had died. It seems to him that everything in him has made
itself into a question as discordant and unanswered as the tearing cry
of a puppy baying the moon, struck out of his senses by that swimming
round silver above him, ineffably lustrous, ineffably removed, none of
it ever coming to touch him but light too pale to help at all. He is
holding a girl in his arms--he can feel her body against him--but it is
not Nancy he is holding--it never will be Nancy any more. He releases
her and starts walking up and down in a series of short, uneasy strides,
turning mechanically to keep out of the way of chairs. Words come out of
him, words he never imagined he could ever say, he thinks dizzily that
it would feel like this if he were invisibly bleeding to death--that
would come the same way in fiery spurts and pauses that tore at the
body.

"Don't you see, dear, don't you _see_? It's been eight months now and
we aren't any nearer getting married than we were at first and it isn't
honest to say we will be soon any more--I can't see any prospect--I've
failed in everything I thought would go--and we can't get married on
my job for _years_--I'm not good enough at it--and I _won't_ have you
hurt--I _won't_ have you tied to me when it only means neither of us
doin