“‘There was Roger, now,’ she says. ‘I didn’t care for him a bit at first. I thought he was uncouth and ill-mannered, and he would so pester me to go out with him. And when I did go out I used to be oh! so bored. He never said anything: he just sat opposite, gazing at me with greedy, adoring eyes, and then one day he kissed me. I shall never forget that moment. We were standing, after a game of tennis, in the shade of that big oak tree by the lake at Barolin, leaning against the bridge, and suddenly I felt his fingers on my arms, hard and compelling. I was swung round against him. “You little fool,” he said, “I am sick of this. You have got to love me!” And then he kissed me.’ “Only a week ago she told me that. The wide-set, luminous eyes were dilated and very tender; the lines of the pouted mouth became softer and less sensual. Then she shrugged her shoulders and was once again the petulant, cynical child of pleasure. ‘But afterwards,’ she sighed. “You had that moment, though,” I said, and I began to quote from Meredith: “‘Love that had robbed us of immortal things.’ But she interrupted me. ‘I know, I know, but I had to pay for it, and I am asking myself whether it was worth the price. Men and women, they are just paths that intersect and then go their own ways. We had a while of perfect harmony; then Roger grew tired of me at the very moment when I had really begun to love him. Although I knew that he didn’t love me, I tried to keep him; and that’s degrading, it hurts one’s self-respect. It’s always like that, or else it’s the other way; one wants a man, one woos him, one makes love to him; and then as soon as one’s got him, one’s tired of him.’ “‘From which,’ I said, ‘one may gather that you are finding Paul a little too exacting.’ “The hazel eyes flashed a look of grateful recognition.