He seemed to her so far away that she felt it useless to answer him. Everything that had happened was deep inside her. Neither Laurence nor Dudley had any relation to it. She knew herself too deeply. It was the unknown self from which gods were made. There was nothing to turn to. There was nothing more to know. She watched Laurence now and felt a foolish smile on her lips. Her hard, concentrated gaze noted nothing about him. "I've behaved disgustingly, Laurence." Laurence watched her. He let his hands fall away. He wanted never to know what she was going to say. His eyes were on the soft hair against her cheek. He had the impulse to kiss her there. He hated her already for the pain of what she was taking away from him. Some helpless thing in him wanted her and she was killing it cruelly and senselessly. It was monstrous to take her soft hair and her cheek away from him. "I've deceived you, Laurence. I've been carrying on an intrigue without telling you." Her brows were painfully drawn above her blind hard gaze. Her smile suggested a sneer at its own agony. "I've had a lover." Laurence flushed slowly and regarded her with a dim stare of suffering and dislike. He could not conquer the impression that her manner was victorious. He felt that he must ask who her lover was. He thought that she was degrading him when she made him ask it. "Yes?" His voice sounded excited, yet calm, almost elated. The voice came from a strange mouth. "Dudley Allen," Julia said, and kept the same unhappy, irrational smile. "How long did this go on before you made up your mind to tell me? I can forgive you everything but that, Julia. Why didn't you tell me? You're a free agent. I have nothing to say about your actions, but I don't think you had any right to lie to me, Julia." He tried to keep his mind on the point of justice. He was utterly vanquished and weak. To touch her! To be near to her! He felt her putting things between them so that he could never touch her. His mouth was sweet. His suffused eyes had an expression of stupidity and anguish. Julia, observing him, all at once relaxed, and, with a bewildered air, began to weep, hiding her face again. He envied the sobs which shook her with relief. She sank into a chair. "Don't, Julia. You mustn't do this, Julia. Don't!" He came up to her, and, with an effort, touched her drooped head. The contact was grateful to him. Her warm shuddering body reassured him against the dark they were in. They were both in the same darkness. He wanted to know her in it where her bright empty words had pierced and gone. "How can you bear to touch me?" Julia said. She demanded nothing. Helpless and waiting, she was clinging to him. Her legs were warm and weak and tired. She was glad of the chair, and only in terror that Laurence might go. "Don't leave me, Laurence! Please don't leave me!"