He did not reply, looking beyond, deeply penetrated by all this humanity that each moment receded farther from them, isolating them, lifting them above the world into the loneliness of the skies. Her hand remained on his arm unconsciously, but this weight so soft but yet so imperious recalled him to himself. He thought no longer of what lay without. He looked at her. She was trembling. He too felt the subtle, disturbing restlessness of this dark that closed in about them, shutting out the peopled world—this mood of the day that exerts over human beings such a compelling desire. She turned and looked at him. He could not see her face distinctly, only the eyes—that seemed incapable of seeing all but this. Then abruptly, brusquely, by the same mutual impulse, they were in each other’s arms, straining to each other, their lips irresistibly closed over each other, feeling themselves more and more wrapped around by this soft darkness that had cast them up, enfolding their loneliness in the great protective instinct of human love. The room flared up brilliantly. She recovered herself the first, drawing herself out of his arms, covering her face with fingers that still throbbed with the agony of their embrace. They could not look at each other, bewildered by the suddenness of what had happened. She went past him hurriedly to the fireplace, sitting down. He followed irresolutely, feeling his feet unsteady beneath him, all the intellectual forces within him submerged, drunk, overthrown by the sudden, delirious awakening of his senses, suddenly aroused by this revelation of woman. "What have we done? What was it?" she said breathlessly, without facing him. "We are crazy, Teddy,—crazy!" He came heavily to the other end of the fireplace, leaning on the mantel, looking down at the woman who was no longer an indefinite mystery of silks and colors, but a moving, living body that had stirred in his arms. "Teddy, we are crazy," she repeated. "What possessed us?" "It is you who are crazy now," he said abruptly. "What is the use of arguing? Those things are beyond us. It is over—it is settled. We had nothing to do with it." "No, no," she cried vigorously, jumping up. "It is not right. It isn’t fair to you. We were swept off our feet." "Thank Heaven, yes." "But it’s impossible, it’s crazy—it’s senseless. I don’t want to marry, I don’t want to fall in love. I want to be free—I must be free—I know that—you know that. So what then?" "What’s the use of arguing? It’s been settled for us." "But it isn’t settled. I lost my head—you lost your head. We didn’t know what we were doing. Marriage is impossible, absurd. I’m not a woman to marry—you would be unhappy—don’t you see how ridiculous it is? I think only of myself—my career—" "What’s all that amount to—you love me and I love you. It’s always been so—we’ve been fools and I didn’t know it."