anctuary of her heart because there was
no sanctuary there. His love became a prison from which he longed to
escape, but he had not the strength merely to open the door--that was
all it needed--and walk out into the open air. It was torture and at
last he became numb and hopeless. In the end the fire burnt itself out
and, when he saw her eyes rest for an instant on the slender bridge, it
was no longer rage that filled his heart but impatience. For many years
now they had lived together bound by the ties of habit and convenience,
and it was with a smile that he looked back on his old passion. She was
an old woman, for the women on the islands age quickly, and if he had no
love for her any more he had tolerance. She left him alone. He was
contented with his piano and his books.

His thoughts led him to a desire for words.

"When I look back now and reflect on that brief passionate love of Red
and Sally, I think that perhaps they should thank the ruthless fate that
separated them when their love seemed still to be at its height. They
suffered, but they suffered in beauty. They were spared the real tragedy
of love."

"I don't know exactly as I get you," said the skipper.

"The tragedy of love is not death or separation. How long do you think
it would have been before one or other of them ceased to care? Oh, it is
dreadfully bitter to look at a woman whom you have loved with all your
heart and soul, so that you felt you could not bear to let her out of
your sight, and realise that you would not mind if you never saw her
again. The tragedy of love is indifference."

But while he was speaking a very extraordinary thing happened. Though he
had been addressing the skipper he had not been talking to him, he had
been putting his thoughts into words for himself, and with his eyes
fixed on the man in front of him he had not seen him. But now an image
presented itself to them, an image not of the man he saw, but of another
man. It was as though he were looking into one of those distorting
mirrors that make you extraordinarily squat or outrageously elongate,
but here exactly the opposite took place, and in the obese, ugly old man
he caught the shadowy glimpse of a stripling. He gave him now a quick,
searching scrutiny. Why had a haphazard stroll brought him just to this
place? A sudden tremor of his heart made him slightly breathless. An
absurd suspicion seized him. What had occurred to him was impossible,
and yet it might be a f