She dragged her eyes up to him, where he stood by the mantelpiece, a tall, muscular figure, displaying himself. He was as finished in appearance as any young man she knew; and he had in addition, the zest which had always tormented her in the faces of vulgar young men. Her eyes grew irresponsible; her face seemed to sharpen. “Do you doubt it?” he demanded. She shook her head helplessly. “Well, then?” “I can’t argue with you,” she said, low. “You’re the sort of woman that never loves but once,” said Joe. “If you were to let me go . . . !” “Are you threatening to leave me?” she asked, with a bitter smile. “Frankly, I can’t stand this,” said Joe. “I must either have you entirely, or I _will_ leave you.” Elaine was silent. Her eyes were hidden. Suddenly she rose, and going to one of the windows, stood, twisting the cord of the window shade between thumb and finger, and looking down on the squalid panorama of soiled, half-melted snow. The old Square looked exhausted and leprous with the patches of scant dead grass and naked earth showing amidst the snow. Finally she murmured: “I am not sure that you love me!” “What more do you want?” cried Joe. “You know your power over me. You have felt my heart beat against yours. You know that when I come near you, I am lost.” “A power over your body,” she murmured without looking around. “That’s the only thing I know,” said Joe coolly. “I don’t go in for soul states. You’ve read too many novels. For God’s sake let’s be natural with each other. What else is there but this blind hunger we have for each other. The big thing that comes only once!” “And passes!” “Passes? Why do you keep harping on that? Do you doubt your own power? A woman like you! Are you afraid of common women? You will never lose me as long as you are sure of yourself!” “Then I have lost you already!” she whispered to the glass. “What’s that?” he asked irritably. She would not repeat it. “I shouldn’t so much mind about you,” she said slowly, “if I was sure that _I_ could stay mad. That’s what I most dread, coming to myself!” “You needn’t fear,” said Joe smiling. “I’ll undertake to hold you.” Elaine continued to look out of the window. Presently he said: “I suspect the real reason is, you think I’m not good enough for you . . . not that I blame you. . . .” “That’s not it,” she said quickly. “I have never put on any pretences with you. . . .” “Oh, no!” she said bitterly. “I have told you the whole of my nefarious history. . . .” “I wouldn’t care if you had committed a murder!” “I suppose people warn you against me.” “Oh, yes. Everybody. I don’t listen . . . I live only for the hours I spend with you.” “Same here,” put in Joe.