nk is that I must take you away. You'll have to
leave him."

She shook her head hopelessly.

"I've thought that too, very often, when I felt I couldn't bear it. But
always I _have_ borne it. And he would die without me."

"The best thing is for him to die," he cried harshly. "In a decent
community he would be put in a lethal chamber. But I'm not thinking of
him. I'm thinking of you. And I'm thinking of myself."

He threw his hat on the ground, and turned away from her.

"You've got into my imagination," he began almost indignantly.

"You've been in mine years and years," she said.

He came back then, and she was frightened of him.

"Let's get out of this," he said impatiently. "I can't talk to you here
in his house. Let us get off into the Bush somewhere. Where's the boy?"

"He's playing with Betty."

"You'd better fetch him along," he said unevenly.

She shook her head.

"Louis would be worried if he came in and found me out at tea-time," she
said. "It made him very unhappy to see you, you know. He can't bear to
think that you are free while he is a slave."

She walked before him to look at the distant smoke of the fires. The
clearing was almost finished.

"Damn Louis!" he cried. "He is a slave because he lets himself be! And
you're a slave because he's one. I shall not let you stay here, chained.
Armour suits you better."

"Whatever do you mean?" she gasped.

He strode along without her, knowing that she would follow; it was so
good to follow instead of leading always.

"You know quite well what I mean," he said at last when they were out of
sight of the house and only faint pungency of burning wood reached them,
with the crackle of wind in the scrub. "I've made a woman like you, in
my dreams. I never thought to see her in the flesh--yet--. One who could
march along by me shining--not wanting to be carried over rough
places--getting in a man's way, stooping his back--"

She tried to speak, but his eyes silenced her. She stared at him,
fascinated.

"Oh I'm so sick of pretty, pathetic, seductive little women. Always I
have to make love to them. It's the only meeting-ground between a man
and most women. You--I couldn't make love to you! You're not seductive,
in the least. You're hard and quick and taut. There's a courage about
you--"

"Please, Professor Kraill," she began, but he silenced her by an
impatient gesture.

"Listen to me, Marcella. You listened to me before, like a little meek
girl