ain.
Do you really believe that we shall either of us always be at our best?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't care a hang whether we are or
not. I'll have you, and all to myself. And I won't say 'for a while,
at least.' Do you imagine that when we return to New York I'm going to
let Society take possession of you again? Not only shall I work harder
than I've ever worked before, but I'd see little more of you than I do
now. And that I'll never submit to again. I'll write my next play
inside this house, and you'll be here when I want you, not gadding
about."

She felt a sudden pang of dismay, apprehension. New York? She
realized that not for a moment had she given up her original purpose.
But why disturb the serenity of the present? When she had him in the
Dolomites . . . She answered him in the same light tone.

"I'm having my last fling at New York Society. When we return we'll
give our spare time to the Sophisticates. I see far less of them now
than I like." Then, with a further desire to investigate the literary
temperament, even if she were stabbed again in the process, she looked
at him with provocative eyes and said: "I've sometimes wondered why you
haven't insisted upon a secret marriage. I'm told it can be done with
a reasonable prospect of success in certain states."

"Don't imagine I didn't think of it . . . but--well--I think the play
would go fluey . . . you see. . . ."

"I see! And what about your next?"

"The next will be a comedy. I'll never be able to write a tremendously
emotional play again."

"And meanwhile you will not deny that the artist has submerged the
lover."

"I admit nothing of the sort. But you yourself let the artist
loose--and what in God's name should I be doing these cursed weeks if
you hadn't? You know you never would have consented to a secret
marriage. You've set your heart on the Dolomites. . . . How about
that interval of travel, by the way? Liners and trains are not
particularly conducive to illusions."

"I thought I'd told you. My plan is to be married there. I should go
on a preceding steamer and see that the Lodge was in proper condition.
I want everything to be quite perfect, and Heaven only knows what has
happened to it."

"Oh! This is a new one you've sprung. But--yes--I like the idea. I'd
rather dreaded the prelude." And then he made one of those abrupt
vaultings out of one mood into another which had fascinated her from
the fir