THE conversational permutations and combinations of this new fourfold intimacy inevitably threw new light for each upon the character of the others, and led to endless discussions. “But why,” Felix exclaimed to Rose-Ann, after an evening spent in the company of the two others, “doesn’t Phyllis make up her mind about Clive, one way or the other. Why should she keep on tormenting him this way?” “Why doesn’t Clive make up his own mind?” Rose-Ann retorted. “It’s he that’s torturing her. I understand Phyllis’s attitude perfectly.” “We both seem to have rather changed our views about them,” he observed. “You used to blame Phyllis.” “I don’t any more,” said Rose-Ann. “I blame Clive.” “For what, precisely?” “For not knowing what he wants!” “He wants Phyllis. That’s simple enough.” “No, he doesn’t. It would be simple enough if he did. He could have her in a moment. She’s crazy about him. She wants nothing else than to be really his sweetheart.” “Then why isn’t she?” “Because he won’t let her!” “What nonsense, Rose-Ann!” “It’s perfectly true. I was going to tell you; while you and Clive were over in the corner tonight talking about that novel of his, she was explaining to me what she was angry at him about. She had proposed to him that they rent an apartment together in Chicago this fall.” “And he refused?” Felix asked incredulously. “Yes ... unless she would marry him first. And she wouldn’t.” “But why not?” he asked. “Don’t you understand, Felix?... Before, when they first knew each other, she would gladly have married him—but he wouldn’t ask her. He wanted her to be a ‘free-woman.’ And now that she’s ready to be, he insists on ‘protecting’ her with a marriage. Can’t you see? he wants her to admit that she’s not in earnest, that she’s afraid.... And she won’t. I quite agree with her!” “But what a fuss over nothing,” said Felix. “Over nothing? Aren’t ideas anything? Isn’t pride anything?” “Not in comparison with happiness. They’ve been making each other miserable for two years with their ideas, and their silly pride. The important thing is to get them—yes, damn it!—into the same bed together!” Rose-Ann laughed. “They’ve tried even that, Felix! and it did no good.” “What!” “No—they spent the night arguing about whether they really loved each other!” Felix groaned. “I never heard of such a crazy pair in my life!” “Yes, it was utterly ridiculous,” Rose-Ann agreed. “Phyllis told Clive she was perfectly willing, for the sake of companionship, to become his mistress—but he wouldn’t have her on those terms. He wanted her to say she loved him.” “I can’t exactly blame him for asking that,” said Felix. “Why shouldn’t she say it?—it was true!” “She just wasn’t sure; I can understand that, Felix. She wanted to find out whether she did or not. And if he couldn’t be sure for both of them— You see, it was his cowardice, not hers.” “Madness!” said Felix. “Is this what modern love has come to!” 2