Opportunity never delays, when the strong heart demands it. A note from Louise told of her arrival in the city, and gave her phone number. First impulse was to ring her up at once; he had not realized how much he wanted to see her. He thought over the matter; there was no harm in one last ride. He called up both women, alleging a visit to strike headquarters to one, and preempting the other for the afternoon. Just before three he claimed the New Orleans girl. "Come on," he told her delightedly, holding her cool hands hidden in his. "It's too fine an afternoon to rust indoors." A short while later he experimented diffidently. "You know, I'm married." "Yes, Mr. Lover; I suppose I saw the lady in my city." "Well?" She mimicked his uncertainty. "Well?" After all, what was the harm? Louise set certain strings in his nature ringing in response to her obvious lure, strings that Jane's finer person did not touch. Why should he cripple himself by denying a rounded development, a full self-expression to his nature? The fresh majesty of these thoughts quite persuaded him; how could they have escaped mankind so long? He had never been taught that desire is the parthenogenetic parent of logic, the shaper of all intellectual decisions. They swung aimlessly into the country club grounds, almost deserted this early in the afternoon. Up to the big billiard garret, the rough beams above, the window-seats in the gables, he took her. "With a few more cushions----" He lugged over an armful, and bent to nest them around her. The intangible sheath of the _lilas_ surrounding her enwrapped him, mingled with the delicately acrid breath of her body, that unmistakable exhalation of feminine pores which summons the man as the drowsy odor of sweet clover draws the boisterous flight of the bee. His throat choked, a tingling warmness washed throughout him. "Don't ... you're----" Provocative fingers pushed him back. The conventional protest died away. He kissed her fiercely, with a passionate brutality strange to his experience. Her fervor matched his; she gave herself enough to increase his desire, yet withheld wilfully with that simulation of the chase which blows up the flame to its maddest height. At length, the racking storm quiescent for a moment, he knelt weakly beside her, spin-drift battered by the inner surge of the tempest. "I'm married," he parroted his earlier statement. "I know----" The stored-up frenzy shook him in restless helplessness, overcoming all restraints. "I'll leave Jane to-morrow, if you say.... Anything you want--There's nothing you can't have from me. Just say it--now--Hurt me some way----" "I don't want to hurt you, you dear big silly boy. I love you." He brought her head down until he could feel her parted teeth lightly touching his neck. "Hurt me ... kill me...."