at had something of a threat in it. "Do
you think I would? Do you think I could?... or dare? Don't you
understand?" She faltered--"but then...." she added, and was silent for
a long minute. I felt the throb of a thousand pulses in my head, on my
temples. "Oh, yes, I care," she said slowly, "but that--that makes it
all the worse. Why, yes, I care--yes, yes. It hurts me to see you. I
might.... It would draw me away. I have my allotted course. And
you--Don't you see, you would influence me; you would be--you _are_--a
disease--for me."

"But," I said, "I could--I would--do anything."

I had only the faintest of ideas of what I would do--for her sake.

"Ah, no," she said, "you must not say that. You don't understand....
Even that would mean misery for you--and I--I could not bear. Don't you
see? Even now, before you have done your allotted part, I am
wanting--oh, wanting--to let you go.... But I must not; I must not. You
must go on ... and bear it for a little while more--and then...."

There was a tension somewhere, a string somewhere that was stretched
tight and vibrating. I was tremulous with an excitement that
overmastered my powers of speech, that surpassed my understanding.

"Don't you see ..." she asked again, "you are the past--the passing. We
could never meet. You are ... for me ... only the portrait of a man--of
a man who has been dead--oh, a long time; and I, for you, only a
possibility ... a conception.... You work to bring me on--to make me
possible."

"But--" I said. The idea was so difficult to grasp. "I will--there must
be a way--"

"No," she answered, "there is no way--you must go back; must try. There
will be Churchill and what he stands for--He won't die, he won't even
care much for losing this game ... not much.... And you will have to
forget me. There is no other way--no bridge. We can't meet, you and
I...."

The words goaded me to fury. I began to pace furiously up and down. I
wanted to tell her that I would throw away everything for her, would
crush myself out, would be a lifeless tool, would do anything. But I
could tear no words out of the stone that seemed to surround me.

"You may even tell him, if you like, what I and Gurnard are going to do.
It will make no difference; he will fall. But you would like him to--to
make a good fight for it, wouldn't you? That is all I can do ... for
your sake."

I began to speak--as if I had not spoken for years. The house seemed to
be coming to life; t