But the girl’s red lips had retracted. She was shivering. She had lost her charm of posture. She cried, “Oh, yes! They’re our people and all the rest of that tosh! I’m not a hypocrite. It’s a stable! A stable!” Her breath choked her. She gasped, “Get me out of here! I’m used to what you call real people!” She loosed his sleeve and patted her hair. But some inner spring shook her. Scarlet streaks appeared in her face. She babbled, “He must be mad! Of course he’s sentimental about them--about the place--the old place--It’s the way he is about Carlson! My God, why should he think I can stand it!” Something hummed in Gurdy’s head. His hands heated. He stood shuffling a foot in the grass and looked from her at the green intricate branches. He must keep cool. He whispered, “Can’t you find anything--well, funny in it?” “It’s all funny rather the way an old dress is!--Why should he think I could stay here? Three weeks! Of course, he hasn’t any breed--” “Shut up,” said Gurdy, “That’ll be all! We were born here. Mark took us and had us dressed and looked after--trained. I’m not going to laugh at them. I can’t.--I’ll be damned if I’ll hear you laugh at Mark. Yes, he’s sentimental! If he wasn’t, d’you think he’d have bothered about taking care of you--of us? The family’s sacred to him. He loves them. He’s that kind.--Stop laughing!” He hated her. There was no beauty left. Her face had shrivelled in this fire. She was swiftly and horribly like an angry trull. She said, “Sentimentalist! You’re a damned milk and sugar sentimentalist like--” “Ah,” said Gurdy, “that’s out of some book!... All right. Mark’s going to take a place on Long Island. We’ll go up in the morning.” He tramped off. The orchard became a whirl of green flame that seared then left him cold. He was tired. His body felt like stone, heavy and dead. The illusion of desire was gone out of Gurdy. VII Todgers Intrudes