never allowed flirtation to go beyond
certain decorous lengths, and she was used to a milder form of
philandering.

"You've disarranged my hair, you silly boy!" She went to the glass to
put it in order, and when she turned back found that James had gone.
"What an odd creature!" she muttered.

To Mrs. Pritchard-Wallace the affair was but an incident, such as might
have been the love of Phaedra had she flourished in an age when the art
of living consists in not taking things too seriously; but for
Hippolitus a tragedy of one sort or another is inevitable. James was not
a man of easy affections; he made the acquaintance of people with a
feeling of hostility rather than with the more usual sensation of
friendly curiosity. He was shy, and even with his best friends could not
lessen his reserve. Some persons are able to form close intimacies with
admirable facility, but James felt always between himself and his
fellows a sort of barrier. He could not realise that deep and sudden
sympathy was even possible, and was apt to look with mistrust upon the
appearance thereof. He seemed frigid and perhaps supercilious to those
with whom he came in contact; he was forced to go his way, hiding from
all eyes the emotions he felt. And when at last he fell passionately in
love, it meant to him ten times more than to most men; it was a sudden
freedom from himself. He was like a prisoner who sees for the first time
in his life the trees and the hurrying clouds, and all the various
movement of the world. For a little while James had known a wonderful
liberty, an ineffable bliss which coloured the whole universe with new,
strange colours. But then he learnt that the happiness was only sin, and
he returned voluntarily to his cold prison.... Till he tried to crush
it, he did not know how strong was this passion; he did not realise that
it had made of him a different man; it was the only thing in the world
to him, beside which everything else was meaningless. He became
ruthless towards himself, undergoing every torture which he fancied
might cleanse him of the deadly sin.

And when Mrs. Wallace, against his will, forced herself upon his
imagination, he tried to remember her vulgarity, her underbred manners,
her excessive use of scent. She had merely played with him, without
thinking or caring what the result to him might be. She was bent on as
much enjoyment as possible without exposing herself to awkward
consequences; common scandal told him