ured.

"But you put all women on pedestals. . . . Eric, will you believe me if
I say that I've tried to live up to your conception of me?"

"But do you know what my conception of you is?"

"Something a thousand miles higher than I can ever climb! When I'm
restless, lonely, I think of our love, your wonderful devotion--like a
mother's to her child . . . and my love for you. Give me your cigarette,
Eric."

Before he could see what she was doing, the glowing end had been pressed
against her hand until it blackened and died. He saw her eyes shut and
her lip whitening as she bit it. Her body swayed and fell forward before
the crumpled cigarette dropped on to the carpet.

"You little--Babs, what's the matter with you?"

She opened her eyes, breathing quickly and holding out her hand to shew
a vermilion ring with a leprous-white centre.

"_I'd_ put my hand in the fire for _you_!" she panted.

"You little fool!" He was filled with a desire to hurt her for having
hurt herself. "Look here, Barbara. . . ."

But she had risen to her feet and was pressing the wounded hand to her
lips.

"You don't _know_ how it hurt!" she cried with a tremble in her voice.

"What good, precisely, d'you think you've done?" he asked.

She snatched a spill from the mantel-piece and thrust it between the
bars of the fire.

"If you want it again----!"

Eric dragged her upright with one arm and rang the bell.

"We'll have coffee in the smoking-room," he said. "Barbara, what's the
matter with you?"

She laughed almost hysterically.

"I feel I'm fighting for my life! That was to shew you I'd do anything
in the world you asked me to! And you talk about our giving up meeting
. . . like giving up smoking!"

Eric drew a chair to the fire and lighted her cigarette in silence. Only
a fool would break that silence for twenty-four hours. . . .

"A bit rash that, isn't it?" he asked, as he cut his cigar.

"You won't ask me anything that I don't want you to," she answered. "And
you know there are some things I _can't_ give you."

Coffee was brought in, and he offered her sugar, knowing well--if he had
been able to collect himself--that she never took it. Her cigarette went
out and required another match. A pile of five books, still in their
wrappers, absorbed her.

It was only half-past ten when she forced a yawn and asked him to get
her a taxi. He collected a coat and hat from the hall and arranged his
muffler elaborately with his back to