-holes. She recoiled in silence. And in
one black, unconscious movement he was gone, down the garden and over
the fence and across the country, swallowed in a black unconsciousness.

She, realising, sank upon the hearth-rug and lay there curled upon
herself. She was defeated. But she, too, would never yield. She lay
quite motionless for some time. Then she got up, feeling the draught on
the floor. She closed the door, and drew down the blind. Then she looked
at her wrist, which he had gripped, and which pained her. Then she
went to the mirror and looked for a long time at her white, strained,
determined face. Come life, come death, she, too would never yield. And
she realised now that he would never yield.

She was faint with weariness, and would be glad to get to bed and sleep.

Aaron meanwhile had walked across the country and was looking for a
place to rest. He found a cornfield with a half-built stack, and sheaves
in stook. Ten to one some tramp would have found the stack. He threw
a dozen sheaves together and lay down, looking at the stars in the
September sky. He, too, would never yield. The illusion of love was gone
for ever. Love was a battle in which each party strove for the mastery
of the other's soul. So far, man had yielded the mastery to woman. Now
he was fighting for it back again. And too late, for the woman would
never yield.

But whether woman yielded or not, he would keep the mastery of his own
soul and conscience and actions. He would never yield himself up to her
judgment again. He would hold himself forever beyond her jurisdiction.

Henceforth, life single, not life double.

He looked at the sky, and thanked the universe for the blessedness
of being alone in the universe. To be alone, to be oneself, not to be
driven or violated into something which is not oneself, surely it is
better than anything. He thought of Lottie, and knew how much more truly
herself she was when she was alone, with no man to distort her. And he
was thankful for the division between them. Such scenes as the last were
too horrible and unreal.

As for future unions, too soon to think about it. Let there be clean
and pure division first, perfected singleness. That is the only way to
final, living unison: through sheer, finished singleness.

CHAPTER XII. NOVARA

Having no job for the autumn, Aaron fidgetted in London. He played at
some concerts and some private shows. He was one of an odd quartette,
for example,