“I am afraid it is time for you to go.” She released her throat and held out her hand. Quincy grasped it. It was warm and masterful altogether. Then he went. * * * * * Julia Deering heard the door softly shut. She flung herself face-down upon the couch and began tearlessly to sob. Behind her back, her two arms went out, straining and rigid. The fists were clenched. XIII From that day, life was a battleground for Quincy. The next time that he saw Julia Deering, he was swept clear of strong emotions. And this made his countenance easier to uphold. She wished no more, it seemed, than to have him docile at her feet, avid for whatever she might say. So it was needless for her to give much. And in his swept condition, it was easy for him to receive little. The kiss had been forgotten. The promise was being only tacitly lived up to. No remorse had gripped him, after that evening. Remorse requires a consciousness of what has been, to cause it. And this, he lacked. He had kissed her. But what was in that kiss? Had it indeed been more than a promise of their fellowship? He had no way of knowing how it had seemed to Julia, and how much of her had gone out with her lips, or been there, when for a brief moment he had clasped her body. Quincy envisaged dimly the wide variations that spirit makes in human action. In his dreams no more than such a kiss had made him drunk with joy; a fancied embrace no longer than this real one which had been, had made him faint with the need of giving. But these realities were far less sharply limned, their contents and their meanings were infinitely more complex than the willed dramas of his dreams. So Quincy felt no remorse. He was far too wildly drained by puzzlement. The way of his soul was like a lake, wide and clear and full, at one end of which was a lock. And at times, the bolt in the lock slipped out and the waters rushed away with marvellous swiftness and there remained but a hollow basin, reeking and vaporous. So had been the week after that night. He had seen her again. But she had seemed content with his empty self. It did not occur to Quincy that this might have been, because she also had been swept of her fullness.