'Ah, Julian!' she said, suddenly and marvellously melting, and leaning forward she stretched out both hands towards him, so that he was obliged to take them, and she drew him down to his knees once more beside her, and smiled into his eyes, having taken command and being resolved that no crisis of anger should again arise to estrange them, 'I shall never have flattery from you, shall I? my turbulent, impossible Julian, whose most meagre compliment I have treasured ever since I can remember! but it is over now, my time of waiting for you'--she still held his hands, and the smile with which she looked at him transfigured all her face. He was convinced; he trembled. He strove against her faintly,-- 'You choose your moment badly; you know that I must leave for Aphros.' 'You cannot!' she cried in indignation. As his eyes hardened, she checked herself; she knew that for her own safety she must submit to his will without a struggle. Spoilt, irrational as she was, she had never before so dominated her caprice. Her wits were all at work, quick slaves to her passion. 'Of course you must go,' she said. She played with his fingers, her head bent low, and he was startled by the softness of her touch. 'What idle hands,' he said, looking at them; 'you were vain of them, as a child.' But she did not wish him to dwell upon her vanity. 'Julian, have I not been consistent, all my life? Are you taking me seriously? Do you know that I am betraying all the truth? One hasn't often the luxury of betraying all the truth. I could betray even greater depths of truth, for your sake. Are you treating what I tell you with the gravity it deserves? You must not make a toy of my secret. I have no strength of character, Julian. I suppose, in its stead, I have been given strength of love. Do you want what I offer you? Will you take the responsibility of refusing it?' 'Is that a threat?' he asked, impressed and moved. She shrugged slightly and raised her eyebrows; he thought he had never so appreciated the wonderful mobility of her face. 'I am nothing without the person I love. You have judged me yourself: worthless--what else?--cruel, vain. All that is true. Hitherto I have tried only to make the years pass by. Do you want me to return to such an existence?' His natural vigour rebelled against her frailty. 'You are too richly gifted, Eve, to abandon yourself to such slackness of life.' 'I told you I had no strength of character,' she said with bitterness, 'what are my gifts, such as they are, to me? You are the thing I want.' 'You could turn your gifts to any account.' 'With you, yes.' 'No, independently of me or any other human being. One stands alone in work. Work is impersonal.' 'Nothing is impersonal to me,' she replied morosely, 'that's my tragedy.' She flung out her hands.