and passed over her face. Where was the supreme fulfilment she would never enjoy? Why was she so cold, so unroused, so indifferent?

As they went home, and she saw the many, hateful lights of the bungalow, of several bungalows in a group, he said softly:

“Don't lock your door.”

“I'd rather, here,” she said.

“No, don't. We belong to each other. Don't let us deny it.”

She did not answer. He took her silence for consent.

He shared his room with another man.

“I suppose,” he said, “it won't alarm the house if I go across to happier regions.”