akin to the
creative ecstasy.

It drove her now at a furious pace through the Gardens and along the
High Street. It caused her to exult in the face of the great golden
October sunset piled high in the west. It made her see Brodrick
everywhere. The Gardens were a green paradise with the spirit of
Brodrick moving in them like a god. The High Street was a golden road
with Brodrick at the end of it. The whole world built itself into a
golden shrine for Brodrick. He was coming to see her at five o'clock.

He was not there, in her room, when she arrived. But he had been there
so often that he pervaded and dominated the place, as Tanqueray had once
dominated and pervaded it. He had created such a habit, such a
superstition of himself that his bodily presence was no longer necessary
to its support. There was a chair by the fireplace, next the window. She
could not see it now without seeing Brodrick, without seeing a look he
had, when, as he sat there silent, his eyes had held her, covered her,
caressed her. There were times when he had the gestures and the manner
of a man sitting by his own fireside, taking her and all that she
signified for granted, establishing between them a communion in which
the poignant, ultimate things were not said because they were so
profoundly felt.

She caught herself smiling now at the things she was going to say to
him.

Her bell rang with the dreadful, startling noise that made her heart
leap in her breast.

He came in slowly like a man preoccupied with grave business of his own.
And at the sight of him Jane's heart, which had leaped so madly, dragged
in her breast and drew the tide of her blood after it.

He took her hand, but not with any eagerness. His face was more than
ever sombre, as if with some inward darkness and concern. He turned from
her and became interested in finding a suitable place for his hat. (Jane
noticed that it was a new one.) Then he sat down and remained seated.

He let her get up and cross the room and ring the bell for herself, so
fixed was he in his dream. Only, as her gown brushed him in her passing
back, he was aware of it and shrank. She heard him draw in a hard
breath, and when she looked at him again she saw the sweat standing on
his forehead.

"You've hurried," she said.

"I haven't," said Brodrick. "I never hurry."

"Of course not. You never do anything undignified."

That was not one of the things that she had meant to say.

"Never," said Brodri