Athalie

"Somehow it seemed to be an invasion of our privacy, of our

intimacy--for me to dine with other men at the same tables, be served

by the same waiters, hear the same music. But I didn't know how to

avoid it when I was taken there by other men. Could you tell me what I

should have done?"

He made no reply; his boyish face grew almost sulky, now.

Presently he rose as though to get his coat: she rose also, unhappy,

confused.

"Don't mind me. I'm a fool," he said shortly, looking away from

her--"and a very--unhappy one--"

"Clive!"

He said savagely: "I tell you I don't know what's the matter with

me--" He passed one hand brusquely across his eyes and stood so,

scowling at the hearth where Hafiz sat, staring gravely back at him.

"Clive, are you ill?"

He shrugged away the suggestion, and his arm brushed against hers. The

contact seemed to paralyse him; but when, slipping back unconsciously

into the old informalities, she laid her hands on his shoulders and

turned him toward the light, instantly and too late she was aware that

the old and innocent intimacy was ended, done for,--a thing of the

past.

Incredulous still in the very menace of new and perilous relations--of

a new intimacy, imminent, threatening, she withdrew her hands from

the shoulders of this man who had been a boy but an instant ago. And

the next moment he caught her in his arms.

"Clive! You can't do this!" she whispered, deathly white.

"What am I to do?" he retorted fiercely.

"Not this, Clive!--For my sake--please--please--"

There was colour enough in her face, now. Breathless, still a little

frightened, she looked away from him, plucking nervously,

instinctively, at his hands clasping her waist.

"Can't you c-care for me, Athalie?" he stammered.

"Yes ... you know it. But don't touch me, Clive--"

"When I'm--in love--with you--"

She caught her breath sharply.

"--What am I to do?" he repeated between his teeth.

"Nothing! There is nothing to do about it! You know it!... What is

there to do?"

He held her closer and she strained away from him, her head still

averted.

"Let me go, Clive!" she pleaded.

"Can't you care for me!"

"Let me go!"

He said under his breath: "All right." And released her. For a moment

she did not move but her hands covered her burning face and sealed her

lids. She stood there, breathing fast and irregularly until she heard

him move. Then, lowering her hands she cast a heart-broken glance at

him. And his ashen, haggard visage terrified her.