Would not the very
thought of the girl be abhorrent to him? He would have shown that, not
merely said it among other wild things. Words were no use when they
contradicted action. She, who loved with every bit of her, could not
grasp that a man can really love and want one woman and yet, at the same
time, be attracted by another.

That sudden fearful impulse of the morning to make away with herself and
end it for them both recurred so vaguely that it hardly counted in her
struggles; the conflict centred now round the question whether life
would be less utterly miserable if she withdrew from him and went back
to Mildenham. Life without him? That was impossible! Life with him? Just
as impossible, it seemed! There comes a point of mental anguish when the
alternatives between which one swings, equally hopeless, become each
so monstrous that the mind does not really work at all, but rushes
helplessly from one to the other, no longer trying to decide, waiting
on fate. So in Gyp that Sunday afternoon, doing little things all
the time--mending a hole in one of his gloves, brushing and applying
ointment to old Ossy, sorting bills and letters.

At five o'clock, knowing little Gyp must soon be back from her walk, and
feeling unable to take part in gaiety, she went up and put on her hat.
She turned from contemplation of her face with disgust. Since it was no
longer the only face for him, what was the use of beauty? She slipped
out by the side gate and went down toward the river. The lull was over;
the south-west wind had begun sighing through the trees again, and
gorgeous clouds were piled up from the horizon into the pale blue. She
stood by the river watching its grey stream, edged by a scum of torn-off
twigs and floating leaves, watched the wind shivering through the
spoiled plume-branches of the willows. And, standing there, she had
a sudden longing for her father; he alone could help her--just a
little--by his quietness, and his love, by his mere presence.

She turned away and went up the lane again, avoiding the inn and the
riverside houses, walking slowly, her head down. And a thought came, her
first hopeful thought. Could they not travel--go round the world? Would
he give up his work for that--that chance to break the spell? Dared she
propose it? But would even that be anything more than a putting-off? If
she was not enough for him now, would she not be still less, if his work
were cut away? Still, it was a gleam, a gleam i