“If you leave me alone,” she said, “I shall never stop crying. Can’t we go to some happier place? This minute? Edward, don’t leave me alone for a minute here.” He would never leave her alone again. Everything was perfectly easy at last. He had money. Stone’s money. Nothing could be more easy or fortunate. “_But she is pretending I am Tam._ Never mind, I can pretend too. I have always been good at pretending. I can pretend that she wants me at last.” From minute to minute he could pretend. Not for longer. It was very dangerous. He would not face the coming minute. He could not hold the frenzied minutes. They were mad. They were frantic, thundering towards the fearful edge of the world. Was this the happier place she had spoken of? It was the “best suite” in the happier hotel. There were Emily’s two suitcases on the floor. One was leaning against Edward’s suitcase. The room was panelled in pale blue. This was only the sitting-room. The bedroom opened from it. Time was doing its best. One minute gave him Emily’s—“Oh, Edward, darling ... isn’t it all lovely....” Another—“Let me look at you, Edward, at least you have nice heavy eyes. What would happen if you opened your eyes wide?” Then she pushed him angrily. She put her two thin, cruel hands upon his chest. She was crying again. “Go away ... go away. You are nothing.... Oh, Tam ... Tam....” She had gone into the inner room and locked the door. He was nothing. She was right. He could see himself now, sagging, disordered, his forehead against her locked door. She was speaking. What was she saying? Was she saying, “Wait, Edward, wait only a little minute ... darling Edward, I love you ... at last.” No, he could not hear what she was saying. He was on his knees to her locked door. “Emily ... Emily....” She would not answer. Yes, she answered. She opened the door. She ran past him into the middle of the outer room. She turned and faced him.... Her cheeks were very red and her eyes excited. “Leave me alone,” she shouted harshly and hideously. “Can’t you leave me alone? I can’t bear you. I couldn’t bear to touch you—you poor sickly thing....” That was nothing. What she had said was nothing. Silence had covered it up now. If he could put his arms about her again.... She hit him on the face. She hit him again and again. She was crying again. She would not let him reach a rock of silence in this wild sea in which he was drowning. She was crying loudly. And whose voice was that, beseeching against her crying? “Emily ... Emily ... Emily....” Was it his own voice? “You must believe it now,” she sobbed. “You—poor—thing....” She was gone. The seas were still. A desert ... a continent of silence....