his name between the blows. She did not
utter a word of complaint, or make an effort to escape. Brave and
unflinching, though almost stunned, she raised her white blood-stained
face for him to strike again each time that he buffed it from him.
"Will!" "Will!"

But her courage and submissiveness were driving him mad, had changed
suspicion to certainty. Only guilt could make her take her punishment
this way. Nevertheless she must confess the guilt herself. Even in his
fury, he remembered to hold his hand open and not clench it--like a
cruelly strong animal, tormenting its prey before killing, careful to
keep it alive.

"Answer me. Go on with your tale."

"Then stop beating me, and I'll tell you."

He stayed his hand, poised it, and she seized it and clung to it.

"Will--as God sees me--I did it for your sake--only to help you. I
couldn't get the help unless I sacrificed myself to save you."

Wrenching his hand away he knocked her to the ground, and she lay face
downward. But this blow was nothing, purely automatic, like his first
blow, not bringing with it that faint sense of something refreshing,
the momentary appeasement of his agony. For in truth the torture that
he himself suffered was almost unendurable. Yet up to now his pain,
though so tremendous, was unlocalized; it came from a fusion of all
his thoughts, and perhaps each separate thought, when it became clear,
would bring more pain than all the thoughts together.

The world had tumbled about his ears; his glorious life had shriveled
to nothing; his pride was gone, his love was gone, his trust in man
and his belief in man's creator; and for a few moments one thought
grew a little clearer than the rest. The end of all this must be
death--nothing less. He was really dead already, and he would not
pretend to go on living. He would finish her, and then finish himself.

Turning his head, he looked at the window; and the open space out
there seemed to whisper to him, to beg to him, and to command him.
Yes, that way would be as good as another--strangle her, pitch her
out, and jump out after her.

"Will!" She had once more scrambled to her knees. "I've loved you
faithfully. I've never loved any one but you."

He did not hit her. Grasping the arm that she was stretching toward
him, he dragged her upward, seized her round the body, and carried her
to the bed.

"Now we'll go to work, you and I." He had thrown her down on her back,
and he held her with both hi