‘Isn’t it a FOOL!’ she cried. ‘Isn’t it a sickening FOOL ?’ The vindictive mockery in her voice made his brain quiver. Glancing up at him, into his eyes, she revealed again the mocking, white-cruel recognition. There was a league between them, abhorrent to them both. They were implicated with each other in abhorrent mysteries.

‘How many scratches have you?’ he asked, showing his hard forearm, white and hard and torn in red gashes.

‘How really vile!’ she cried, flushing with a sinister vision. ‘Mine is nothing.’

She lifted her arm and showed a deep red score down the silken white flesh.

‘What a devil!’ he exclaimed. But it was as if he