get hold of you? I know
him--I was at Eton with him. He always was--" and Owen muttered
something under his breath. "Surely, Evelyn, you are not thinking of
going to confession. After all my teaching has it come to this? My God!"
he said, as he walked up the room, "I'd sooner Ulick got you than that
damned hypocritical fool. You are much too good for God," he said,
turning suddenly and looking at her, remarking at that moment the pretty
oval of her face, the arched eyebrows, the clear, nervous eyes. "You'll
be wasted on religion."

"From your point of view, I suppose I shall be."

They talked on and on, saying what they had said many times before.
Sometimes Evelyn seemed to follow his arguments, and thinking that he
was convincing her, he would break off suddenly. "Well, will you come
for a cruise with me in the _Medusa_? I'll ask all your friends--we'll
have such a pleasant time."

"No, Owen, no, it's impossible, you don't understand. I don't blame
you--you never will understand."

And they looked at each other like wanderers standing on the straits
dividing two worlds. The hands of the clock pointed to five o'clock. The
servants had taken the tea-service away. Owen had urged Evelyn not to
abandon the stage; he had urged the cause of Art; he had urged that her
voice was her natural vocation; he had spoken of their love, and of the
happiness they had found in each other--the conversation had drifted
from an argument concerning the authenticity of the Gospels to a lake
where they had spent a season five years ago. She saw again the reedy
reaches and the steep mountain shores. They had been there in the month
of September, and the leaves of the vine were drooping, and the grapes
ready for gathering. They had been sweethearts only a little while, and
the drives about the lake was one of his happiest memories.

"Evelyn, you cannot mean that you will never see me again?"

His eyes filled with tears, and she turned her head aside so that she
might not see them.

"Life is very difficult, Owen; try not to make it more difficult."

"Evelyn, I had hoped that our friendship would have continued to the
end. I never cared for any other woman, and when you are my age and look
back, you will find that there is one, I don't say I shall be the one,
who--" His voice trembled, and he passed his hand across his eyes.

"It's very sad, Owen, and life is very difficult.... There is this
consolation for you, that I am not sending yo