le but because of me. You will go away because you feel you must."

With every word urging me to get away, her clasp tightened, she hugged my
head closer to her breast. I submitted, knowing well that I could free
myself by one more effort which it was in my power to make. But before I
made it, in a sort of desperation, I pressed a long kiss into the hollow
of her throat. And lo--there was no need for any effort. With a stifled
cry of surprise her arms fell off me as if she had been shot. I must
have been giddy, and perhaps we both were giddy, but the next thing I
knew there was a good foot of space between us in the peaceful glow of
the ground-glass globes, in the everlasting stillness of the winged
figures. Something in the quality of her exclamation, something utterly
unexpected, something I had never heard before, and also the way she was
looking at me with a sort of incredulous, concentrated attention,
disconcerted me exceedingly. I knew perfectly well what I had done and
yet I felt that I didn't understand what had happened. I became suddenly
abashed and I muttered that I had better go and dismiss that poor
Dominic. She made no answer, gave no sign. She stood there lost in a
vision--or was it a sensation?--of the most absorbing kind. I hurried
out into the hall, shamefaced, as if I were making my escape while she
wasn't looking. And yet I felt her looking fixedly at me, with a sort of
stupefaction on her features--in her whole attitude--as though she had
never even heard of such a thing as a kiss in her life.

A dim lamp (of Pompeiian form) hanging on a long chain left the hall
practically dark. Dominic, advancing towards me from a distant corner,
was but a little more opaque shadow than the others. He had expected me
on board every moment till about three o'clock, but as I didn't turn up
and gave no sign of life in any other way he started on his hunt. He
sought news of me from the _garcons_ at the various cafes, from the
_cochers de fiacre_ in front of the Exchange, from the tobacconist lady
at the counter of the fashionable _Debit de Tabac_, from the old man who
sold papers outside the _cercle_, and from the flower-girl at the door of
the fashionable restaurant where I had my table. That young woman, whose
business name was Irma, had come on duty about mid-day. She said to
Dominic: "I think I've seen all his friends this morning but I haven't
seen him for a week. What has become of him?"

"Th