an impulsive pleasure hunt, was by no means the only obscured and
repudiated conflict that disturbed the mind and broke out upon the
behaviour of Benham. Beneath that issue he was keeping down a far more
intimate conflict. It was in those lower, still less recognized depths
that the volcanic fire arose and the earthquakes gathered strength. The
Amanda he had loved, the Amanda of the gallant stride and fluttering
skirt was with him still, she marched rejoicing over the passes, and
a dearer Amanda, a soft whispering creature with dusky hair, who took
possession of him when she chose, a soft creature who was nevertheless a
fierce creature, was also interwoven with his life. But-- But there was
now also a multitude of other Amandas who had this in common that they
roused him to opposition, that they crossed his moods and jarred upon
his spirit. And particularly there was the Conquering Amanda not so much
proud of her beauty as eager to test it, so that she was not unmindful
of the stir she made in hotel lounges, nor of the magic that may shine
memorably through the most commonplace incidental conversation. This
Amanda was only too manifestly pleased to think that she made peasant
lovers discontented and hotel porters unmercenary; she let her light
shine before men. We lovers, who had deemed our own subjugation a
profound privilege, love not this further expansiveness of our lady's
empire. But Benham knew that no aristocrat can be jealous; jealousy he
held to be the vice of the hovel and farmstead and suburban villa, and
at an enormous expenditure of will he ignored Amanda's waving flags and
roving glances. So, too, he denied that Amanda who was sharp and shrewd
about money matters, that flash of an Amanda who was greedy for presents
and possessions, that restless Amanda who fretted at any cessation of
excitement, and that darkly thoughtful Amanda whom chance observations
and questions showed to be still considering an account she had to
settle with Lady Marayne. He resisted these impressions, he shut them
out of his mind, but still they worked into his thoughts, and presently
he could find himself asking, even as he and she went in step striding
side by side through the red-scarred pinewoods in the most perfect
outward harmony, whether after all he was so happily mated as he
declared himself to be a score of times a day, whether he wasn't
catching glimpses of reality through a veil of delusion that grew
thinner and thinner