Suddenly he was silent. But he sat with his head dropped, to hide his face. Then furtively he wiped his face with his fingers. Then suddenly he lifted his head, and looked straight at Ursula, with dark, almost vengeful eyes.

‘He should have loved me,’ he said. ‘I offered him.’

She, afraid, white, with mute lips answered:

‘What difference would it have made!’

‘It would!’ he said. ‘It would.’

He forgot her, and turned to look at Gerald. With head oddly lifted, like a man who draws his head back from an insult, half haughtily, he watched the cold, mute, material face. It had a bluish cast. It sent a shaft like ice through the