kind and clever,
too. She has fascination, I think...."
"I'm sure she has."
"And yet, d'you know, there's something in her, and in lots of people I
might get to know, I suppose, through her and Max Elliot, that I--well,
I almost hate it."
"What is it?"
"Well, whenever I come across one of them by chance I seem to hear a
voice repeating, 'To-morrow we die--to-morrow we die--to-morrow we die.'
And I seem to see something inside of them with teeth and claws
fastening on pleasure. It's--it's like a sort of minotaur, and it gives
me horrors. And yet I might go to it."
Mrs. Mansfield said nothing for a moment. She had finished her cup of
tea, and now, with a little gesture, refused to have another.
"It's quite true. There is the creature with teeth and claws, and it is,
perhaps, horrible. But it's so sad that I scarcely see anything but its
sadness."
"You are kinder than I."
He leaned forward.
"D'you know, I think you're the kindest human being I ever met, except
one, that priest up there on the mantelpiece."
"Forgive me," she said, making allowance for herself to-day because of
Heath's evident desire to talk intimately, a desire which she believed
she ought to help, "but are you a Roman Catholic?"
"Oh, no! I wish I was!"
"But I suppose you can't be?"
"Oh, no! I suppose I'm one of those unsatisfactory people whose soul and
whose brain are not in accord. That doesn't make for inward calm or
satisfaction. But I can only hope for better days."
There was something uneasy in his speech. She felt the strong reserve in
him always fighting against the almost fierce wish to be unreserved with
her.
"They will come, surely!" she said. "If you are quite sincere, sincere
with yourself always and sincere with others as often as is possible."
"You're right about its not being possible to be always sincere with
others."
She smiled.
"They simply wouldn't let you!"
"No," he said. "I feel as if I could be rather sincere with you
sometimes."
"Specially to-day, perhaps."
"Yes, I think so. We do get on, don't we?"
"Yes, we do."
"I often wonder why. But we do. I'll move the table if you've really
finished."
He put the table away and sat down on the settle beside her, at the far
end. And he turned, leaning his back against the upright end, and
stretching one arm along the wooden top, on which his long fingers
restlessly closed.
"I was sorry I went to Max Elliot's till you came into the ro
|