No place could have been more distasteful as the scene ofthe talk that lay before him; but he had acceded to Anna'ssuggestion that it would seem more natural for her to summonSophy Viner than for him to go in search of her. As histroubled pacings carried him back and forth a relentlesshand seemed to be tearing away all the tender fibres ofassociation that bound him to the peaceful room. Here, inthis very place, he had drunk his deepest draughts ofhappiness, had had his lips at the fountain-head of itsoverflowing rivers; but now that source was poisoned and hewould taste no more of an untainted cup.

　　For a moment he felt an actual physical anguish; then hisnerves hardened for the coming struggle. He had no notionof what awaited him; but after the first instinctive recoilhe had seen in a flash the urgent need of another word withSophy Viner. He had been insincere in letting Anna thinkthat he had consented to speak because she asked it. Inreality he had been feverishly casting about for the pretextshe had given him; and for some reason this trivialhypocrisy weighed on him more than all his heavy burden ofdeceit.

　　At length he heard a step behind him and Sophy Vinerentered. When she saw him she paused on the threshold andhalf drew back.

　　"I was told that Mrs. Leath had sent for me.""Mrs. Leath DID send for you. She'll be here presently;but I asked her to let me see you first."He spoke very gently, and there was no insincerity in hisgentleness. He was profoundly moved by the change in thegirl's appearance. At sight of him she had forced a smile;but it lit up her wretchedness like a candle-flame held to adead face.

　　She made no reply, and Darrow went on: "You must understandmy wanting to speak to you, after what I was told just now."She interposed, with a gesture of protest: "I'm notresponsible for Owen's ravings!""Of course----". He broke off and they stood facing eachother. She lifted a hand and pushed back her loose lockwith the gesture that was burnt into his memory; then shelooked about her and dropped into the nearest chair.

　　"Well, you've got what you wanted," she said.

　　"What do you mean by what I wanted?""My engagement's broken--you heard me say so.""Why do you say that's what I wanted? All I wished, from thebeginning, was to advise you, to help you as best I could----""That's what you've done," she rejoined. "You've convincedme that it's best I shouldn't marry him."Darrow broke into a despairing laugh. "At the very momentwhen you'd convinced me to the contrary!""Had I?" Her smile flickered up. "Well, I really believedit till you showed me...warned me...""Warned you?""That I'd be miserable if I married a man I didn't love.""Don't you love him?"She made no answer, and Darrow started up and walked away tothe other end of the room. He stopped before the writing-table, where his photograph, well-dressed, handsome, self-sufficient--the portrait of a man of the world, confident ofhis ability to deal adequately with the most delicatesituations--offered its huge fatuity to his gaze. He turnedback to her. "It's rather hard on Owen, isn't it, that youshould have waited until now to tell him?"She reflected a moment before answering. "I told him assoon as I knew.""Knew that you couldn't marry him?""Knew that I could never live here with him." She lookedabout the room, as though the very walls must speak for her.

　　For a moment Darrow continued to search her faceperplexedly; then their eyes met in a long disastrous gaze.

　　"Yes----" she said, and stood up.

　　Below the window they heard Effie whistling for her dogs,and then, from the terrace, her mother calling her.

　　"There--THAT for instance," Sophy Viner said.

　　Darrow broke out: "It's I who ought to go!"She kept her small pale smile. "What good would that do anyof us--now?"He covered his face with his hands. "Good God!" he groaned.

　　"How could I tell?""You couldn't tell. We neither of us could." She seemed toturn the problem over critically. "After all, it might havebeen YOU instead of me!"He took another distracted turn about the room and comingback to her sat down in a chair at her side. A mocking handseemed to dash the words from his lips. There was nothing onearth that he could say to her that wasn't foolish or cruelor contemptible...

　　"My dear," he began at last, "oughtn't you, at any rate, totry?"Her gaze grew grave. "Try to forget you?"He flushed to the forehead. "I meant, try to give Owen moretime; to give him a chance. He's madly in love with you;all the good that's in him is in your hands. His step-motherfelt that from the first. And she thought--she believed----""She thought I could make him happy. Would she think sonow?""Now...? I don't say now. But later? Time modifies...rubsout...more quickly than you think...Go away, but let himhope...I'm going too--WE'RE going--" he stumbled on theplural--"in a very few weeks: going for a long time,probably. What you're thinking of now may never happen. Wemay not all be here together again for years."She heard him out in silence, her hands clasped on her knee,her eyes bent on them. "For me," she said, "you'll alwaysbe here.""Don't say that--oh, don't! Things change...peoplechange...You'll see!""You don't understand. I don't want anything to change. Idon't want to forget--to rub out. At first I imagined Idid; but that was a foolish mistake. As soon as I saw youagain I knew it...It's not being here with you that I'mafraid of--in the sense you think. It's being here, oranywhere, with Owen." She stood up and bent her tragic smileon him. "I want to keep you all to myself."The only words that came to him were futile denunciations ofhis folly; but the sense of their futility checked them onhis lips. "Poor child--you poor child!" he heard himselfvainly repeating.

　　Suddenly he felt the strong reaction of reality and itsimpetus brought him to his feet. "Whatever happens, Iintend to go--to go for good," he exclaimed. "I want you tounderstand that. Oh, don't be afraid--I'll find a reason.

　　But it's perfectly clear that I must go."She uttered a protesting cry. "Go away? You? Don't you seethat that would tell everything--drag everybody into thehorror?"He found no answer, and her voice dropped back to its calmernote. "What good would your going do? Do you suppose itwould change anything for me?" She looked at him with amusing wistfulness. "I wonder what your feeling for me was?

　　It seems queer that I've never really known--I suppose weDON'T know much about that kind of feeling. Is it liketaking a drink when you're thirsty?...I used to feel as ifall of me was in the palm of your hand..."He bowed his humbled head, but she went on almostexultantly: "Don't for a minute think I'm sorry! It wasworth every penny it cost. My mistake was in being ashamed,just at first, of its having cost such a lot. I tried tocarry it off as a joke--to talk of it to myself as an'adventure'. I'd always wanted adventures, and you'd givenme one, and I tried to take your attitude about it, to 'playthe game' and convince myself that I hadn't risked any............