“If you are going to bring me regrets, anxieties, remorse,” she murmurs, as she leans over him, “it would be better never to come back.” Vincent shuts his eyes as though to shut out too bright a light. The jubilation in Lilian’s face dazzles him. “You must treat this as if it were a mosque--take your shoes off before you come in, so as not to bring in any mud from the outside. Do you suppose I don’t know what you are thinking of?” Then, as Vincent tries to put his hand on her mouth, she defends herself with the grace of a naughty child. “No! Let me speak to you seriously. I have reflected a great deal about what you said the other day. People always think that women aren’t capable of reflection, but you know, it depends upon the woman.... That thing you said the other day about the products of cross breeding ... and that it isn’t by crossing that one gets satisfactory results so much as by selection.... Have I remembered your lesson, eh? Well, this morning I think you have bred a monster--a perfectly ridiculous creature--you’ll never rear it! A cross between a bacchante and the Holy Ghost! Haven’t you now?... You’re disgusted with yourself for having chucked Laura. I can tell it from the lines on your forehead. If you want to go back to her, say so at once and leave me; I shall have been mistaken in you and I shan’t mind in the least. But if you mean to stay with me, then get rid of that funereal countenance. You remind me of certain English people--the more emancipated their opinions, the more they cling to their morality; so that there are no severer Puritans than their free-thinkers.... You think I’m heartless? You’re wrong. I understand perfectly that you are sorry for Laura. But then, what are you doing here?” Then, as Vincent turned his head away: “Look here! You must go to the bath-room now and try and wash your regrets off in the shower-bath. I shall ring for breakfast, eh? And when you come back, I’ll explain something that you don’t seem to understand.” He had got up. She sprang after him. “Don’t dress just yet. In the cupboard on the right hand side of the bath, you’ll find a collection of burnouses and haiks and pyjamas. Take anything you like.” Vincent appeared twenty minutes later dressed in a pistachio coloured silk jellabah. “Oh, wait a minute--wait! Let me arrange you!” cried Lilian in delight. She pulled out of an oriental chest two wide purple scarves; wound the darker of the two as a sash round Vincent’s waist, and the other as a turban round his head.