Alice could not shake off the sensation she had had with the little naked girl in her arms. The child's small, thin nakedness was like a knife. Alice wanted the child's nakedness to cut her heavy flesh into feeling. She went over to the crib. In the dark, she could feel the baby staring up, awake, making no sound. She turned to the mantel shelf for the bottle and offered it to his lips which she could barely see. His small hands touched her meaninglessly. He accepted the bottle. He was content. She could hear him sucking. She knelt by the crib, by the baby that ignored her. She gave herself to it. She betrayed it sweetly. Oh, baby! She wept, enjoying her shame. She wanted to put its hands in her breast, its lips in her breast. In the dark room she wanted to tear off her clothes to give the baby her nakedness. But the baby could not take her. It could not show her herself. In time it would give the light of pain to some one, but now it was little with small hands. Alice could not bear the baby any more. What did she want? She went out of the nursery and into her own room and closed the door. What did she want? She began to pull her clothes off. First her blouse. Her skin prickled with chill. The darkness was thick about her. It loved her. Horace Ridge. Her clothes slipped off. She pulled off her shoes and stockings and the floor and the slick matting knew her feet. The darkness knew her. Her body was white and stiff against the dark. With a sensual agony she knew how ugly she was. Horace Ridge. She could not bear his name--his pain. Through the door she could hear Laurence and her father talking as they passed through the hall. Take this body away from me. I do not know it. I can no longer bear the company of this unknown thing. She lay down in the bed and pulled the sheets up. Spring. If Mamma Farley calls me to dinner, she said to herself, I shall be sick. In the dark street a boy whistled. She heard girls laugh. Through the window a new-leafed tree over the opposite roof moved its black foliage against the bloom of the sky, milk-purple clouds streaked with rose. A hard moon, thin like a shell, lay up there glowing inside itself with a cold secret light. Alice felt her body harsh like the moon. He did not love me. They make me ugly, because unmeaning. Beauty, straight, white, tall like a temple. You cannot be beautiful alone.... I open my heart. I take the world to my heart. I am beauty. ... But my body is dark in the temple. * * * * * "Alice!" Alice waited a moment, smothering. I shall not answer. "Alice!" Alice's lips against the crack of the closed door. "Yes, Mamma." "Did the baby drink his milk?" "Yes." "Dinner'll get cold." Alice put her clothes on, feeling as though she had been sick. Why do I go?