in a word, or in two. She was fretted; yes, but she was
provoked too. She was provoked, but she was incredulous. It could not
continue; it was too much. Men were not made so. And yet--and
yet--James was a possible Eros, an Eros (bless him!) with an eyeglass:
and Eros loved in the dark.

She comforted herself with this thought, which seemed to her a bright
solution of the puzzle, and saw James rise and stretch his length
without mutiny. She received the taps on the cheek of his rolled
_Punch_, allowed, nay, procured, another chilly peck, with no pouting
lips, no reproachful eyes. Then came a jar, and her puzzlement
renewed. "Shall you be late?" "Oh, my dear soul, how can I possibly
say? I brought papers home with me--and you know what that means! It's
an interesting case. We have Merridew for us. I am settling the
brief." Alas, for her. The infatuate even stayed to detail points of
the cause. Much, it appeared, depended upon the Chancellor of the
diocese: a very shaky witness. He had a passion for qualification, and
might tie himself into as many knots as an eel on a night-line. Oh,
might he indeed? And this, this was in the scales against her pride
and joy! She was left--alone on Naxos now--while James went sharply
to his papers.

There I must leave her, till the hour when she could bear the room no
more. She had fought with beasts there, and had prevailed. Yet
unreason (as she had made herself call it) lifted a bruised head at
the last. Papers! Papers, after such a kiss! Oh, the folly of the
wise! Caught up she knew not whence, harboured in the mind she knew
not how, the bitter words of an old Scots song tasted salt upon her
lips:

There dwelt a man into the West,
And O gin he was cruel;
For on his bridal night at e'en
He up and grat for gruel.

They brought him in a gude sheepshead,
A bason and a towel.
"Gar take thae whimwhams far frae me,
I winna want my gruel!"

Standing in the hall while these words were ringing in her head, she
stayed after they were done, a rueful figure of indecision. Instinct
fought instinct, and the acquired beat down the innate. She regarded
the shut door, with wise and tender eyes, without reproach; then bent
her head and went swiftly upstairs.

CHAPTER VI

A LEAP OUTWARDS

She arose, a disillusioned bride, with scarcely spirit enough to cling
to hope, and with less taste for Urquhart's motor than she had ever
had for any duller task-work. Nothing in