Sometimes he and Stephen would look at each other covertly, and their youthful faces would be marred by a very abominable thing; the instinctive repulsion of two human bodies, the one for the other, which neither could help—not now that those bodies were stirred by a woman. Then into this vortex of secret emotion would come Ralph. He would stare from Stephen to Roger and then at his wife, and his eyes would be red—one never knew whether from tears or from anger. They would form a grotesque triangle for a moment, those three who must share a common desire. But after a little the two male creatures who hated each other, would be shamefully united in the bond of their deeper hatred of Stephen; and divining this, she in her turn would hate. 4 It could not go on without some sort of convulsion, and that Christmas was a time of recriminations. Angela’s infatuation was growing, and she did not always hide this from Stephen. Letters would arrive in Roger’s handwriting, and Stephen, half crazy with jealousy by now, would demand to see them. She would be refused, and a scene would ensue. ‘That man’s your lover! Have I gone starving only for this—that you should give yourself to Roger Antrim? Show me that letter!’ ‘How dare you suggest that Roger’s my lover! But if he were it’s no business of yours.’ ‘Will you show me that letter?’ ‘I will not.’ ‘It’s from Roger.’ ‘You’re intolerable. You can think what you please.’ ‘What _am_ I to think?’ Then because of her longing, ‘Angela, for God’s sake don’t treat me like this—I can’t bear it. When you loved me it was easier to bear—I endured it for your sake, but now—listen, listen. . . .’ Stark naked confessions dragged from lips that grew white the while they confessed: ‘Angela, listen. . . .’ And now the terrible nerves of the invert, those nerves that are always lying in wait, gripped Stephen. They ran like live wires through her body, causing a constant and ruthless torment, so that the sudden closing of a door or the barking of Tony would fall like a blow on her shrinking flesh. At night in her bed she must cover her ears from the ticking of the clock, which would sound like thunder in the darkness. Angela had taken to going up to London on some pretext or another—she must see her dentist; she must fit a new dress. ‘Well then, let me come with you.’ ‘Good heavens, why? I’m only going to the dentist!’ ‘All right, I’ll come too.’ ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind.’ Then Stephen would know why Angela was going. All that day she would be haunted by insufferable pictures. Whatever she did, wherever she went, she would see them together, Angela and Roger. . . . She would think: ‘I’m going mad! I can see them as clearly as though they were here before me in the room.’ And then she would cover her eyes with her hands, but this would only strengthen the pictures.