Alwynne caught her breath. For the last ten minutes she had been growing angry, not in her usual summer-tempest fashion, but with a slow, cold anger that was pain. She felt Clare's attitude an indelicacy--the discussion a degradation. She sickened at its pettiness. She seemed to be defending, not herself, but some shrinking, weaponless creature, from attack and outrage.... The fight had been sudden, desperate; but at Clare's last sentence she knew herself vanquished, knew that the first love of her life had been most mortally wounded. She turned blindly. She had no tears, no regret: her sensations were purely physical. She was numbed, breathless, choking, conscious only of an overpowering desire for fresh air, for escape into the open. But first she must say good-bye, head erect, betraying nothing ... say good-bye to the dark figure that was no longer Clare.... A sentence from a child's book danced through her mind in endless repetition, _They rubbed her eyes with the ointment, and she saw it was only a stock._ Of course! And now she must go away quickly.... She should choke if she could not get into the air.... She heard her own voice, flat and tiny-- "Have you finished with me? May I go now?" Clare's laugh was quite unforced. "You're not to go yet!" "Yes. Yes--I think so. May I go now, please?" She had retreated to the door and clung to the handle looking back with blank eyes. "But, you foolish child, you've had no tea. Why are you running away? Are you going to spoil my afternoon?" She lied blunderingly, mad to escape. "But I told you I couldn't stay long. Because--because of Elsbeth. She's to meet me. I only ran up for a minute. Really, I have to go." She made a tremendous effort: "I--I can come back later." Clare shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, very well. Will you come to supper?" Alwynne forced a smile. "Yes." She crossed the threshold, Clare watching from the doorway. "I shall wait for you, we'll have a lazy evening. Supper at eight." There was no answer. Alwynne was stumbling down into the darkness of the stairs and did not seem to hear. Clare turned back into her flat, hesitated uneasily, and came out again. She leaned far over the balustrade, peering down. "Alwynne!" she cried. "Alwynne! Wait a moment, Alwynne!" But Alwynne was gone, gone beyond recall. CHAPTER XLV