ombination. And anything which turns on a Judas
climax is a dirty show, to my thinking. I think your Judas is a rotten,
dirty worm, just a dirty little self-conscious sentimental twister. And
out of all Christianity he is the hero today. When people say Christ
they mean Judas. They find him luscious on the palate. And Jesus
fostered him--" said Lilly.

"He's a profound figure, is Judas. It's taken two thousand years to
begin to understand him," said Jim, pushing the bread and marmalade into
his mouth.

"A traitor is a traitor--no need to understand any further. And a system
which rests all its weight on a piece of treachery makes that treachery
not only inevitable but sacred. That's why I'm sick of Christianity.--At
any rate this modern Christ-mongery."

"The finest thing the world has produced, or ever will produce--Christ
and Judas--" said Jim.

"Not to me," said Lilly. "Foul combination."

It was a lovely morning in early March. Violets were out, and the first
wild anemones. The sun was quite warm. The three were about to take out
a picnic lunch. Lilly however was suffering from Jim's presence.

"Jolly nice here," said Jim. "Mind if I stay till Saturday?"

There was a pause. Lilly felt he was being bullied, almost obscenely
bullied. Was he going to agree? Suddenly he looked up at Jim.

"I'd rather you went tomorrow," he said.

Tanny, who was sitting opposite Jim, dropped her head in confusion.

"What's tomorrow?" said Jim.

"Thursday," said Lilly.

"Thursday," repeated Jim. And he looked up and got Lilly's eye. He
wanted to say "Friday then?"

"Yes, I'd rather you went Thursday," repeated Lilly.

"But Rawdon--!" broke in Tanny, who was suffering. She stopped, however.

"We can walk across country with you some way if you like," said Lilly
to Jim. It was a sort of compromise.

"Fine!" said Jim. "We'll do that, then."

It was lovely sunshine, and they wandered through the woods. Between Jim
and Tanny was a sort of growing _rapprochement_, which got on Lilly's
nerves.

"What the hell do you take that beastly personal tone for?" cried Lilly
at Tanny, as the three sat under a leafless great beech-tree.

"But I'm not personal at all, am I, Mr. Bricknell?" said Tanny.

Jim watched Lilly, and grinned pleasedly.

"Why shouldn't you be, anyhow?" he said.

"Yes!" she retorted. "Why not!"

"Not while I'm here. I loathe the slimy creepy personal
intimacy.--'Don't you think, Mr. Bricknell, that it's lo