“There’s time enough,” said Bradshaw. “This is what I want to say. You are a lonely woman and I am a lonely man, and only an iron bar divides us. It’s the iron bar of convention, of insincerity, of superstition. It seems so difficult to cross. But you see one step is enough. I want you to take that step--to-night.” Clare answered him in a whisper. “Go away!” “I am hungry for you,” said Bradshaw, with a thrill in his voice. “I am hungry for your love. And you are hungry for me. I have seen it in your eyes. You have the look of a famished woman. Famished for love. Famished for comradeship.” Clare raised her hands despairingly. “If you have any pity, go away.” “I have no pity. Because pity is weakness, and I hate weakness.” “You are brutal,” said Clare. He laughed at her. He seemed to like those words. “Yes, I have the brutality of manhood. Man is a brute, and woman likes the brute in him because that is his nature, and woman wants the natural man. That is why you want me, Clare. You can’t deny it.” Clare protested feebly. “I do deny it. I _must_ deny it.” “It’s a funny thing,” said Gerald Bradshaw. “Between you and me there is a queer spell, Clare. I was conscious of it when I first met you. Something in you calls to me. Something in me calls to you. It is the call of the wild.” Clare was scared now. These words seemed to make her heart beat to a strange tune. “What do you mean?” she said. “It is the call of the untamed creature. Both you and I are untamed. We both have the spirit of the woods. I am Pan. You are a wood nymph, imprisoned in a cage, upholstered by maple, on the hire system.” “What do you want with me?” asked Clare. It was clear that he was tempting her. “I want to play with you, like Pan played. You and I will hear the pipes of Pan to-night--the wild nature music.” “To-night?” “To-night. I have waited too long for you, and now I’m impatient. I am alone in my flat waiting for you. I ask you to keep me company, not to-night only, but until we tire of each other, until perhaps we hate each other. Who knows?” “Oh, God!” said Clare. She moaned out the words in a pitiful way. “You have only to slip down one flight of stairs and steal up another, and you will find me at the door with a welcome. It will need just a little care to escape from your prison. You must slip on your hat and cloak as though you were going round to church, and then come to me, to me, Clare! Only a wall will divide you from this flat, but you will be a world away. For you will have escaped from this upholstered cage into a little world of liberty. Into a little world of love, Clare. Say you will come!” “Oh, God!” moaned Clare. “You will come?” “Are you the Devil that you tempt me?” said Clare. Gerald gave a triumphant little laugh. “You will come! Clare, my sweetheart, I know you will come, for your spirit is ready for me.”