"Mr. Melville," she said, "what is a union of souls?" Melville flicked his extinct cigarette suddenly into an elbow shape and then threw it away. The phrase may have awakened some reminiscence. "It's an extra," he said. "It's a sort of flourish.... And sometimes it's like leaving cards by footmen--a substitute for the real presence." There came a gap. He remained downcast, trying to find a way towards whatever it was that was in his mind to say. Conceivably, he did not clearly know what that might be until he came to it. The Sea Lady abandoned an attempt to understand him in favour of a more urgent topic. "Do you think Miss Glendower and Mr. Chatteris----?" Melville looked up at her. He noticed she had hung on the latter name. "Decidedly," he said. "It's just what they _would_ do." Then he spoke again. "Chatteris?" he said. "Yes," said she. "I thought so," said Melville. The Sea Lady regarded him gravely. They scrutinised each other with an unprecedented intimacy. Melville was suddenly direct. It was a discovery that it seemed he ought to have made all along. He felt quite unaccountably bitter; he spoke with a twitch of the mouth and his voice had a note of accusation. "You want to talk about him." She nodded--still grave. "Well, _I_ don't." He changed his note. "But I will if you wish it." "I thought you would." "Oh, _you_ know," said Melville, discovering his extinct cigarette was within reach of a vindictive heel. She said nothing. "Well?" said Melville. "I saw him first," she apologised, "some years ago." "Where?" "In the South Seas--near Tonga." "And that is really what you came for?" This time her manner was convincing. She admitted, "Yes." Melville was carefully impartial. "He's sightly," he admitted, "and well-built and a decent chap--a decent chap. But I don't see why you----" He went off at a tangent. "He didn't see you----?" "Oh, no." Melville's pose and tone suggested a mind of extreme liberality. "I don't see why you came," he said. "Nor what you mean to do. You see"--with an air of noting a trifling but valid obstacle--"there's Miss Glendower." "Is there?" she said. "Well, isn't there?" "That's just it," she said. "And besides after all, you know, why should you----?" "I admit it's unreasonable," she said. "But why reason about it? It's a matter of the imagination----" "For him?" "How should I know how it takes him? That is what I _want_ to know." Melville looked her in the eyes again. "You know, you're not playing fair," he said. "To her?" "To any one." "Why?" "Because you are immortal--and unincumbered. Because you can do everything you want to do--and we cannot. I don't know why we cannot, but we cannot. Here we are, with our short lives and our little souls to save, or lose, fussing for our little concerns. And you, out of the elements, come and beckon----" "The elements have their rights," she said. And then: "The elements are the elements, you know. That is what you forget."