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I
broke
off
with
almost
a
sob
of
despair
.
"
You
can
not
help
being
base
,
"
she
said
,
steadily
regarding
me
--
"
because
you
are
a
man
.
I
am
base
because
I
am
a
woman
.
If
we
believed
in
a
God
,
either
of
us
,
we
might
discover
some
different
way
of
life
and
love
--
who
knows
?
--
but
neither
you
nor
I
have
any
remnant
of
faith
in
a
Being
whose
existence
all
the
scientists
of
the
day
are
ever
at
work
to
disprove
.
We
are
persistently
taught
that
we
are
animals
and
nothing
more
--
let
us
therefore
not
be
ashamed
of
animalism
.
Animalism
and
atheism
are
approved
by
the
scientists
and
applauded
by
the
press
--
and
the
clergy
are
powerless
to
enforce
the
faith
they
preach
.
Come
Geoffrey
,
do
n't
stay
mooning
like
a
stricken
Parsifal
under
those
pines
--
throw
away
that
thing
which
troubles
you
,
your
conscience
--
throw
it
away
as
you
have
thrown
the
book
I
was
lately
reading
,
and
consider
this
--
that
most
men
of
your
type
take
pride
and
rejoice
in
being
the
prey
of
a
bad
woman
!
--
so
you
should
really
congratulate
yourself
on
having
one
for
a
wife
!
--
one
who
is
so
broad-minded
too
,
that
she
will
always
let
you
have
your
own
way
in
everything
you
do
,
provided
you
let
her
have
hers
!
It
is
the
way
all
marriages
are
arranged
nowadays
--
at
any
rate
in
our
set
--
otherwise
the
tie
would
be
impossible
of
endurance
.
Come
!
"
"
We
can
not
live
together
on
such
an
understanding
,
Sibyl
!
"
I
said
hoarsely
,
as
I
walked
slowly
by
her
side
towards
the
villa
.
"
Oh
yes
,
we
can
!
"
she
averred
,
a
little
malign
smile
playing
round
her
lips
--
"
We
can
do
as
others
do
--
there
is
no
necessity
for
us
to
stand
out
from
the
rest
like
quixotic
fools
,
and
pose
as
models
to
other
married
people
--
we
should
only
be
detested
for
our
pains
.
It
is
surely
better
to
be
popular
than
virtuous
--
virtue
never
pays
!
See
,
there
is
our
interesting
German
waiter
coming
to
inform
us
that
dinner
is
ready
;
please
do
n't
look
so
utterly
miserable
,
for
we
have
not
quarrelled
,
and
it
would
be
foolish
to
let
the
servants
think
we
have
.
"
I
made
no
answer
We
entered
the
house
,
and
dined
--
Sibyl
keeping
up
a
perfect
fire
of
conversation
,
to
which
I
replied
in
mere
monosyllables
--
and
after
dinner
we
went
as
usual
to
sit
in
the
illuminated
gardens
of
the
adjacent
hotel
,
and
hear
the
band
.
Sibyl
was
known
,
and
universally
admired
and
flattered
by
many
of
the
people
staying
there
--
--
and
,
as
she
moved
about
among
her
acquaintances
,
chatting
first
with
one
group
and
then
with
another
,
I
sat
in
moody
silence
,
watching
her
with
increasing
wonderment
and
horror
.
Her
beauty
seemed
to
me
like
the
beauty
of
the
poison-flower
,
which
,
brilliant
in
colour
and
perfect
in
shape
,
exhales
death
to
those
who
pluck
it
from
its
stem
.
And
that
night
,
when
I
held
her
in
my
arms
,
and
felt
her
heart
beating
against
my
own
in
the
darkness
,
an
awful
dread
arose
in
me
--
a
dread
as
to
whether
I
might
not
at
some
time
or
other
be
tempted
to
strangle
her
as
she
lay
on
my
breast
--
--
strangle
her
as
one
would
strangle
a
vampire
that
sucked
one
's
blood
and
strength
away
!
We
concluded
our
wedding-tour
rather
sooner
than
we
had
at
first
intended
,
and
returned
to
England
and
Willowsmere
Court
,
about
the
middle
of
August
.
I
had
a
vague
notion
stirring
in
me
that
gave
me
a
sort
of
dim
indefinable
consolation
,
and
it
was
this
--
I
meant
to
bring
my
wife
and
Mavis
Clare
together
,
believing
that
the
gentle
influence
of
the
gracious
and
happy
creature
,
who
,
like
a
contented
bird
in
its
nest
,
dwelt
serene
in
the
little
domain
so
near
my
own
,
might
have
a
softening
and
wholesome
effect
upon
Sibyl
's
pitiless
love
of
analysis
and
scorn
of
all
noble
ideals
.
The
heat
in
Warwickshire
was
at
this
time
intense
--
the
roses
were
out
in
their
full
beauty
,
and
the
thick
foliage
of
the
branching
oaks
and
elms
in
my
grounds
afforded
grateful
shade
and
repose
to
the
tired
body
,
while
the
tranquil
loveliness
of
the
woodland
and
meadow
scenery
,
comforted
and
soothed
the
equally
tired
mind
.
After
all
,
there
is
no
country
in
the
world
so
fair
as
England
--
none
so
richly
endowed
with
verdant
forests
and
fragrant
flowers
--
none
that
can
boast
of
sweeter
nooks
for
seclusion
and
romance
.
In
Italy
,
that
land
so
over-praised
by
hysterical
poseurs
who
foolishly
deem
it
admirable
to
glorify
any
country
save
their
own
,
the
fields
are
arid
and
brown
,
and
parched
by
the
too
fervent
sun
--
there
are
no
shady
lanes
such
as
England
can
boast
of
in
all
her
shires
--
and
the
mania
among
Italians
for
ruthlessly
cutting
down
their
finest
trees
,
has
not
only
actually
injured
the
climate
,
but
has
so
spoilt
the
landscape
that
it
is
difficult
to
believe
at
all
in
its
once
renowned
,
and
still
erroneously
reported
charm
.
Such
a
bower
of
beauty
as
Lily
Cottage
was
in
that
sultry
August
,
could
never
have
been
discovered
in
all
the
length
and
breadth
of
Italy
.
Mavis
superintended
the
care
of
her
gardens
herself
--
she
had
two
gardeners
,
who
under
her
directions
,
kept
the
grass
and
trees
continually
watered
--
and
nothing
could
be
imagined
more
lovely
than
the
picturesque
old-fashioned
house
,
covered
with
roses
and
tufts
of
jessamine
that
seemed
to
tie
up
the
roof
in
festal
knots
and
garlands
,
while
around
the
building
spread
long
reaches
of
deep
emerald
lawn
,
and
bosky
arbours
of
foliage
where
all
the
most
musical
song-birds
apparently
found
refuge
and
delight
,
and
where
at
evening
a
perfect
colony
of
nightingales
kept
up
a
bubbling
fountain
of
delicious
melody
.
I
remember
well
the
afternoon
,
warm
,
languid
and
still
,
when
I
took
Sibyl
to
see
the
woman-author
she
had
so
long
admired
.
The
heat
was
so
great
that
in
our
own
grounds
all
the
birds
were
silent
,
but
when
we
approached
Lily
Cottage
the
first
thing
we
heard
was
the
piping
of
a
thrush
up
somewhere
among
the
roses
--
a
mellow
liquid
warble
expressing
'
sweet
content
,
'
and
mingling
with
the
subdued
coo-cooings
of
the
dove
'
reviewers
'
who
were
commenting
on
whatever
pleased
or
displeased
them
in
the
distance
.
