less and
confident, but her heart would have beaten a little more quickly at the
thought that she was out of hearing of the world, and in the presence
of a man whose eyes looked at her strangely and whose cheeks were
darkly flushed, who was a good deal nearer to the primitive human
animal than most men are, and in whom the main force of nature was
awake and hungry.

'I don't want you to make love to me just now,' she said, swinging her
foot a little as she sat. 'You've done something that has hurt me very
much, and has made me almost wish that I might never see you again
after this time. I wish you could find a way of undoing it--I'm sure
there is a way.'

Unconsciously wise, she had checked his pulse for a moment, and she
looked at him calmly and shook her head. With a sudden and impatient
movement he rose, turned away from her and began to walk up and down at
a little distance, his head bent and his hands behind him.

Though the air in the high room was pure, it was still and hot, for the
late spring afternoon had turned sultry all at once; the fluid of a
near storm was fast condensing to the point of explosion.

The man felt the tension more than the woman just then. It acted on his
state, and made it almost unbearable. His hands were locked behind him
and his fingers twisted each other till they changed colour. He moved
with the short, noiseless steps of a young wild animal measuring its
cage, up and down, up and down, without pause.

'It's this,' Margaret continued, much more gently than she had meant to
speak, 'I don't quite believe you. I'm almost sure you thought that I
would give up the stage if I had enough money to live on without my
work.'

'Yes, I did.' He stopped as if in anger and the words came sharply; but
he was not angry.

'You see!' Margaret answered triumphantly. 'I knew it! What becomes of
your story about the company now?'

She rose also and began to walk. The big leathern arm-chair was between
them; he leaned his elbows on the back of it and watched her, and
compared her hungrily with the Aphrodite.

'All I have told you is true,' he said. 'The business happened to serve
two purposes, that's all. At least, I thought it would, and it was a
pleasure to help you without your knowing it. Why should I be sorry?
That money might as well come to you through me as through anybody
else. You're angry with me. Why? Because I'm too fond of you? It cannot
reasonably be about the money any more--th