stretched his arms over the table towards her.

“May I ask what you intend to gain by this exhibition?”

He said: “It is our last chance. I shall do all that I can.” And as if he had done all else, he turned to Miss Bartlett, who sat like some portent against the skies of the evening. “You wouldn't stop us this second time if you understood,” he said. “I have been into the dark, and I am going back into it, unless you will try to understand.”

Her long, narrow head drove backwards and forwards, as though demolishing some invisible obstacle. She did not answer.

“It is being young,” he said quietly, picking up his racquet from the floor and preparing to go. “It is being certain that Lucy cares for me really. It is that love and youth matter intellectually.”