Anna the Adventuress

She threw away the end of her cigarette. Without turning or looking

in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her

fingers, her elbows upon her knees. She gazed steadily out of the

window at that arc of glittering lights. He made a quick movement

towards her, but she did not flinch. His arm fell to his side. The

effort of self-repression cost him a sob.

"David," she said, "you are not a coward, are you?"

"I do not know," he muttered. "The bravest of us have joints in our

armour."

"You are not a coward," she repeated, "or you would not be my friend.

A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes

no mistake. You are not a coward David, and you must not talk like

one. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. It is the only way."

"I cannot do it!" he cried hoarsely. "I cannot part with you. You have

grown into my life. Anna----"

Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. The man's

passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. And

yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with

outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her

wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her

determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say

to her. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his

own passionate love. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them

to his lips.

"You shall go," he declared. "I will make of the days and weeks one

long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. Always remember

that."

Her hands fell to her side. She remained for a few moments standing as

though listening to his retreating footsteps. Then she turned, and

entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street.