Muriel got well again; but their danger had enlightened them. Muriel’s life was now inconceivably precious to them both; she stood between them and that permanent union, which they dreaded and yet would not have the courage to refuse. After enlightenment the rupture. It came from Oscar, one evening when he sat with her in her drawing-room. “Harriott,” he said, “do you know I’m thinking seriously of settling down?” “How do you mean, settling down?” “Patching it up with Muriel, poor girl.... Has it never occurred to you that this little affair of ours can’t go on for ever?” “You don’t want it to go on?” “I don’t want to have any humbug about it. For God’s sake, let’s be straight. If it’s done, it’s done. Let’s end it decently.” “I see. You want to get rid of me.” “That’s a beastly way of putting it.” “Is there any way that isn’t beastly? The whole thing’s beastly. I should have thought you’d have stuck to it now you’ve made it what you wanted. When I haven’t an ideal, I haven’t a single illusion, when you’ve destroyed everything you didn’t want.” “What didn’t I want?” “The clean, beautiful part of it. The part _I_ wanted.” “My part at least was real. It was cleaner and more beautiful than all that putrid stuff you wrapped it up in. You were a hypocrite, Harriott, and I wasn’t. You’re a hypocrite now if you say you weren’t happy with me.” “I was never really happy. Never for one moment. There was always something I missed. Something you didn’t give me. Perhaps you couldn’t.” “No. I wasn’t spiritual enough,” he sneered. “You were not. And you made me what you were.” “Oh, I noticed that you were always very spiritual _after_ you’d got what you wanted.” “What I wanted?” she cried. “Oh, my God—” “If you ever knew what you wanted.” “What—I—wanted,” she repeated, drawing out her bitterness. “Come,” he said, “why not be honest? Face facts. I was awfully gone on you. You were awfully gone on me—once. We got tired of each other and it’s over. But at least you might own we had a good time while it lasted.” “A good time?” “Good enough for me.” “For you, because for you love only means one thing. Everything that’s high and noble in it you dragged down to that, till there’s nothing left for us but that. _That’s_ what you made of love.” Twenty years passed. * * * * * It was Oscar who died first, three years after the rupture. He did it suddenly one evening, falling down in a fit of apoplexy. His death was an immense relief to Harriott. Perfect security had been impossible as long as he was alive. But now there wasn’t a living soul who knew her secret.