ell?"

Her slim hands began to flutter a little in his as she answered all that
that "Well" implied.

"It's impossible, dear. It's no use arguing about it. It's just waste of
time--and we've only got this little time."

"To do what? To make love in? Dear, we've got all our lives if we
please. We've both made a tremendous mistake, we've both got a chance
now of going back on it, of setting our lives right again, making them
better indeed than we ever dreamed of their being. We inflict some loss
on other people--no loss comparable to our gain--we hurt them chiefly
because of their bloated ideas of their claims on us. I know you've
weighed things, have no prejudices. Rules, systems, are made for types
and classes, not for us. You belong to no type, Mildred. I belong to no
class."

She answered low, painfully:

"It's true I am unlike other people; that's the very reason, why--I--I'm
not good to love." There was a low utterance that was music in her ears,
yet she continued: "Then, dear friend, think of your career, ruined for
me, by me. You might be happy for a while, then you'd regret it."

"That's where you're wrong. My career? A rotten little game, these House
of Commons party politics, when you get into it! The big things go on
outside them; there's all the world outside them. Anyhow, my career, as
I planned it, is ruined already. The Ipswich gang have collared me; I
can't call my tongue my own, Mildred. Think of that!"

She smiled faintly.

"Temporary, George! You'll soon have your head up--and your tongue
out."

"Oh, from time to time, I presume, I shall always be the Horrid Vulgar
Boy of those poor Barthops; I shall kick like a galvanized frog long
after I'm dead. But--I wouldn't confess it to any one but you, dear--I'm
not strong enough to stand against the everlasting pressure that's
brought to bear upon me. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes. You'll be no good if you let the originality be squeezed out of
you. Don't allow it."

"Nothing can prevent it--unless the Faerie Queen will stretch out her
dearest, sweetest hands to me and lead me, poor mortal, right away into
the wide world, into some delightful country where there's plenty of
love and no politics. I want love so much, Mildred; I've never had it,
and no one has ever guessed how much I wanted it except you,
dear--except you."

Yes, she had guessed. The queer childhood, so noisy yet so lonely, had
been spoken of; the married life spoke fo