At four o’clock next afternoon a station taxi stopped at the gate and Dick got out. Suddenly off balance, Nicole ran from the terrace to meet him, breathless with her effort at self-control.

“Where’s the car?” she asked.

“I left it in Arles. I didn’t feel like driving any more.”

“I thought from your note that you’d be several days.”

“I ran into a mistral and some rain.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Just as much fun as anybody has running away from things. I drove Rosemary as far as Avignon and put her on her train there.” They walked toward the terrace together, where he deposited his bag. “I didn’t tell you in the note because I thought you’d imagine a lot of things.”

“That was very considerate of you.” Nicole felt surer of herself now.

“I wanted to find out if she had anything to offer — the only way was to see her alone.”

“Did she have — anything to offer?”

“Rosemary didn’t grow up,” he answered. “It’s probably better that way. What have you been doing?”

She felt her face quiver like a rabbit’s.

“I went dancing last night — with Tommy Barban. We went —”

He winced, interrupting her.

“Don’t tell me about it. It doesn’t matter what you do, only I don’t want to know anything definitely.”

“There isn’t anything to know.”

“All right, all right.” Then as if he had been away a week: “How are the children?”

The phone rang in the house.

“If it’s for me I’m not home,” said Dick turning away quickly. “I’ve got some things to do over in the work-room.”

Nicole waited till he was out of sight behind the well; then she went into the house and took up the phone.

“Nicole, comment vas-tu?”

“Dick’s home.”

He groaned.

“Meet me here in Cannes,” he suggested. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me you love me.” Without speaking she nodded at the receiver; he repeated, “Tell me you love me.”

“Oh, I do,” she assured him. “But there’s nothing to be done right now.”

“Of course there is,” he said impatiently. “Dick sees it’s over between you two — it’s obvious he has quit. What does he expect you to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to —” She stopped herself from saying “— to wait until I can ask Dick,” and instead finished with: “I’ll write and I’ll phone you to-morrow.”

She wandered about the house rather contentedly, resting on her achievement. She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game. Yesterday came back to her now in innumerable detail — detail that began to overlay her memory of similar moments when her love for Dick was fresh and intact. She began to slight that love, so that it seemed to have been tinged with sentimental habit from the first. With the opportunistic memory of women she scarcely recalled how she had felt when she and Dick had possessed each other in secret places around the corners of the world, during the month before they were married. Just so had she lied to Tommy last night, swearing to him that never before had she so entirely, so completely, so utterly . . . .

. . . then remorse............