rto Marguerite had given no sign. She now created
George the confidant of her resentment. And her smile was not an
earnest of some indulgence for her father--her smile was for George
alone.

He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed her. She
did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, and she let her body
loose in his embrace. She looked at him with her eyes nearly upon his,
and her eyes glittered with a mysterious burning; he knew that she was
content. That she should be content, that it should please her to let
him have the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and
thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous piece of
sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so sensuous and yet so
serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love but conscience. In him
ambition was superlatively vigorous. Nevertheless he felt then as though
he had never really known ambition till that moment. He thought of the
new century and of a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly
of his favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of
Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and exacting
and unique girl would be immense, and that he could fulfil it, but on
the one condition that it monopolized his powers. Thus he was both
modest and proud, anxious and divinely elated. His mind was the scene of
innumerable impulses and sensations over which floated the banner of the
male who has won an impassioned allegiance.

"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured.

"No."

"I mean for a long time," she insisted.

"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd only say we're
too young."

The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion.

She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate and drank
together, for they were hungry. And at this point the cat began to show
an interest in their doings.

And after they were both in their beds, but not after they were asleep,
Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, reminded them of
something which they had practically forgotten--his disordered
existence.

CHAPTER III

THE CHARWOMAN

I

George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, having dined
inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach the neighbourhood of
Marguerite at the first moment justifiable. He would have omitted dinner
and trusted to Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy