“I don’t know whether you think I’m living now!” she exclaimed vehemently. “Existing, I call it. And we shall only be young once, Leslie, and it seems so hard to waste it all.” He groaned, and they sat silent for a time, their hands locked together beneath the table. “Would you be ready to--to end it all?” she asked suddenly. “I mean for us to go out together, right out of life?” “Do you mean suicide?” “Yes--a suicide pact.” She fixed her eyes upon him, anxious to believe that he was startled, and acutely touched, at the lengths to which her love could carry her. The actual idea behind the word--that of suicide--conveyed very little to her. Although she believed herself to be fully in earnest, Elsie never seriously contemplated her own death, nor that of her lover. She had often thought of Williams’s death as the one possible solution of their problem, but she had actually never really abandoned the secret expectation that a way out would be found for herself and Morrison that would secure their happiness. She had read of suicide-pacts, and seized upon the idea eagerly as one more peg upon which to hang the proofs of her passion for Morrison, and maintain his love, and his interest in herself, at the level of her own ardour. Although never consciously owning it to herself, Elsie knew that his love was a lesser one than hers. Leslie Morrison, now, did not make the passionate response for which she had hoped. “Don’t talk like that. Oh, Elsie, it is hard, isn’t it? And you don’t know what it’s like for me to think of that brute making your life miserable. If only there was anything I could do!... I think about it till I see red sometimes. Why doesn’t he die?” “Because we want him to, I suppose,” said Elsie, suddenly listless. “He’s always talking about his health failing, and things like that, but I don’t see any sign of it myself. Things will never come right for us in this world, Leslie.” “Elsie, I’ll make him get a separation; I swear I will. It’s the only possible thing. Then at least you’ll be free.” She noticed that he did not refer to the separation between herself and her husband as to a means of furthering their own love. “Haven’t your people ever tried to get your freedom for you?” “Oh, I’ve nobody much, you know! Only mother and Geraldine, and the old aunties. They don’t approve of me either--never did.” “Poor little girl, they don’t understand you!” “I don’t care while I’ve got you, Leslie.” They made love to one another, their voices low, until Morrison reminded Elsie suddenly that it was late. “You’ll hardly get to the West End by seven now. I’m glad you’re going to enjoy yourself to-night, anyway.” “I wish we were going together, Les, just you and I. That’s how it ought to be. Are we going to meet to-morrow, dearest?”