"Scissors, sometimes you make me want to kick you--you agree with 'em! Have you got an ounce of passion in you? Do you know what sex means? I doubt it. Why, there are nights I can't sleep, when I think such things as--but you never seem to be aware of anything. I have seen you dancing with girls, your face like a wax mummy. Why when I take hold of them, sometimes I want to make them cry out in my grip, and when their hair touches my face, I--I--" He halted then, and caught John's wrists in a vice. "I don't believe you've ever felt like crying about a girl just because she's been pleasant to another fellow, or wanted to gather her up in your arms and carry her off to a secret place." The younger man broke away from the frenzied grip. "Lindon, I shall think you are mad in a minute." "I am--do you wonder? Here am I, a vigorous man, with abundance of life singing through every vein, all nature crying out for me to express myself, and night and day I fight the desire down, hold myself in leash, shut up in these four walls--you must know what it means, you're no longer a kid. Nature never intended this, she meant us to break the barriers. We're all defying her; I am, you are, Tilly is--and it's all wrong!" He looked desperately at John. "I don't think love is a thing that you can talk about in this way," said the other quietly. "For you--perhaps not--you're not hot-blooded like me--you're self-contained. But I'm not like that, I must have somebody I worship. Why, do you know at Sedley, it was you--there, now you know I'm mad." He laughed bitterly. "I knew," said John, looking out of the window. "You knew that I cared about you?" asked Lindon. They heard the clock tick in the long interval of silence. "Yes--I could see you liked me very much, and I was afraid of you--I was told you were very jealous." "By Vernley?" "Yes." Lindon laughed rather grimly. "You see how I torture myself--I don't suppose I'm normal," he added bitterly. "No one in love is," added John, half to himself. Lindon looked at him keenly. "How do you know that?" "You're not the only lover, I suppose?" For a moment Lindon stared at him; there was such a depth of feeling in those simple words. Impulsively, he linked his arm in John's. "Scissors, old thing, forgive me. I'm a selfish beast--why do you let me carry on in this childish way?" John half smiled in reply. "Because I've often wanted to myself. After all, you know, you should be grateful--Chelsea's nearer than Belgium." IV