he war itself. That's neither
here nor there, now. You may think I'm offering myself as a sort of
vicarious atonement--if your Doris fails you--but I'm not, really. I'm
too selfish. I have never sacrificed myself for any man. I never will.
It isn't in me. I'm just as eager to get all I can out of life as I
ever was. I liked you long ago. I like you still. That's all there is
to it, Robin."

She shifted herself nearer him. She put one hand on his shoulder, the
other on his knee, and bent forward, peering into his face. Hollister
matched that questioning gaze for a second. It was unreadable. It
conveyed no message, hinted nothing, held no covert suggestion. It was
earnest and troubled. He had never before seen that sort of look on
Myra's face. He could make nothing of it, and so there was nothing in
it to disturb him. But the warm pressure of her hands, the nearness of
her body, did trouble him. He put her hands gently away.

"You shouldn't come here," he said quietly. "I will call a spade a
spade. I love Doris--and I have a queer, hungry sort of feeling about
the boy. If it happens that in spite of our life together Doris can't
bear me and can't get used to me, if it becomes impossible for us to
go on together--well, I can't make clear to you the way I feel about
this. But I'm afraid. And if it turns out that I'm afraid with good
cause--why, I don't know what I'll do, what way I'll turn. But wait
until that happens--Well, it seems that a man and a woman who have
loved and lived together can't become completely indifferent--they
must either hate and despise each other--or else--You understand? We
have made some precious blunders, you and I. We have involved other
people in our blundering, and we mustn't forget about these other
people. I _can't_. Doris and the kid come first--myself last. I'm
selfish too. I can only sit here in suspense and wait for things to
happen as they will. You," he hesitated a second, "you can't help me,
Myra. You could hurt me a lot if you tried--and yourself too."

"I see," she said. "I understand."

She sat for a time with her hands resting in her lap, looking down at
the ground. Then she rose.

"I don't want to hurt you, Robin," she said soberly. "I can't help
looking for a way out, that's all. For myself, I must find a way out.
The life I lead now is stifling me--and I can't see where it will ever
be any different, any better. I've become cursed with the twin devils
of analysis and intro