auty, madness all rolled into
one; it was the only thing in this world that matters. But all the
time he was very careful not to give away the great secret. Just once
or twice their eyes met, and whenever that happened he made some remark
more inordinately witty than usual--or more inordinately foolish. And
the girl opposite helped him, and laughed with him, while over the big
mahogany table there came leaping her real message--"My dear, I'm
yours. . . ." It whispered through the flowers in the big cut-glass
bowl that formed the centrepiece; it echoed between the massive silver
candlesticks with their pink shaded lights. At times it sounded
triumphantly from every corner of the room, banishing all the
commonplace surroundings with the wonder of its voice; at times it
floated softly through the warm, scented air, conjuring up visions of
nights on the desert with the Nile lapping softly on the hot sand, and
the cries of the waterboys coming faintly through the still air.

But ever and always it was there, dominating everything, so insistent
was its reality. As assuredly as if the words had been spoken did they
see into one another's hearts that evening at dinner while a worthy old
Sussex squire and his wife discussed the war, and housing problems, and
the futility of fixing such a price on meat that it paid farmers to put
their calves to the cow, instead of selling the milk. After all, the
words had been spoken before, and words are of little account. There
are times--not often, for artificiality and civilisation are stern
taskmasters--but there are times when a man and woman become as Gods
and know. What need of words between them then; a mathematician does
not require to consult the multiplication table or look up the rules
that govern addition and subtraction.

But the condition is dangerous--very dangerous. For the Law of the
Universe has decreed that for every Action there is an equal and
opposite Reaction. No account may be taken of madness--even though it
be Divine. It avails not one jot when the time comes to foot the bill.
By that time the madness has passed, like a dream in the night; and
cold sanity is the judge before which a man must stand or fall. A few,
maybe, there are who cheat the reckoning for a space; but they live in
a Fools' Paradise. Sooner or later the bill is presented. It must
be--for such is the Law of Things as they Are . . . . And all that a
man may pray for is that he gets go