sed, their characters conflicted with
the intensity of two real and opposing forces. A tragic aspect of it all
was that it was due to Terry's teaching that Marie attained to the
highly individualised character which was destined to rebel against the
finally sterilising influence of her master. Even physical violence
became part of their life, and words that were worse than blows. The
strong bond which still lingered held them for a time together,
notwithstanding what was becoming the brutality of their relations. One
day Marie called Terry to his coffee and he refused. A quarrel followed,
in the course of which she hit Terry on the head with a pitcher, and the
resulting blood was smeared over them both. When calm came again she
said to him:

"Terry, how can we live together?"

"Ain't we living together? Doesn't this prove it?" he replied, grimly.

And this man would use violence in return--and this was the delicate
idealist, the idealist whose love for Marie had at one time been part
and parcel of his high dreams for humanity and perfection, a part of his
propaganda, a part of his hope: during which period he had been
scrupulous not to use force of any kind, spiritual or physical, on the
girl whom he doubly loved--the girl whom he held in his arms every night
for years with a passionate tenderness due to his feeling of her
physical fragility and her social unhappiness, rather than to any other
instinct.

"Marie," he said, "did not fully understand the character of my love for
her. She loved me intellectually and sensually, but not with the soul.
She wanted my ideas, and sex, and more sex, but not the invisible
reality, the harmony of our spirits. From the day that I fully
understood this, my confidence in her and in all things seemed to go.
She felt that I had withdrawn something from her, and it made her
harder. She began cruelly to fling the amours that I had tolerated as
long as I hoped for the spiritual best in my face. It was a kind of
revenge on her part."

Practical troubles, too, lent their disturbing element to the little
remaining harmony of the three.

"We shall probably be forced to leave our rooms in a short time," wrote
Marie. "Our landlord has asked us to leave, without giving any other
reasons than that he wanted a smaller family in these most desirable
rooms! Terry is indignant, for we have been quiet and orderly, and Katie
has always paid the rent in advance. We shall certainly stay until the
p