nterrogation.

"We've loved," she said.

I took her ticket, saw to her luggage, and stood by the door of the
compartment. "Good-bye," I said a little stiffly, conscious of the
people upon the platform. She bent above me, white and dusky, looking at
me very steadfastly.

"Come here," she whispered. "Never mind the porters. What can they know?
Just one time more--I must."

She rested her hand against the door of the carriage and bent down upon
me, and put her cold, moist lips to mine.

CHAPTER THE THIRD ~~ THE BREAKING POINT

1

And then we broke down. We broke our faith with both Margaret and
Shoesmith, flung career and duty out of our lives, and went away
together.

It is only now, almost a year after these events, that I can begin to
see what happened to me. At the time it seemed to me I was a rational,
responsible creature, but indeed I had not parted from her two days
before I became a monomaniac to whom nothing could matter but Isabel.
Every truth had to be squared to that obsession, every duty. It astounds
me to think how I forgot Margaret, forgot my work, forgot everything
but that we two were parted. I still believe that with better chances
we might have escaped the consequences of the emotional storm that
presently seized us both. But we had no foresight of that, and no
preparation for it, and our circumstances betrayed us. It was partly
Shoesmith's unwisdom in delaying his marriage until after the end of the
session--partly my own amazing folly in returning within four days to
Westminster. But we were all of us intent upon the defeat of scandal
and the complete restoration of appearances. It seemed necessary that
Shoesmith's marriage should not seem to be hurried, still more necessary
that I should not vanish inexplicably. I had to be visible with Margaret
in London just as much as possible; we went to restaurants, we visited
the theatre; we could even contemplate the possibility of my presence at
the wedding. For that, however, we had schemed a weekend visit to Wales,
and a fictitious sprained ankle at the last moment which would justify
my absence....

I cannot convey to you the intolerable wretchedness and rebellion of
my separation from Isabel. It seemed that in the past two years all
my thoughts had spun commisures to Isabel's brain and I could think of
nothing that did not lead me surely to the need of the one intimate I
had found in the world. I came back to the House and the office