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〃I want to begin over again。〃
I bowed my head to hide my face； and found her hand in mine and
kissed it。
〃Ah！〃 she said； and slowly withdrew her hand。 She leant forward
with her arm on the sofa…back； and looked very intently into my
face。 I felt the most damnable scoundrel in the world as I returned
her gaze。 The thought of Isabel's darkly shining eyes seemed like a
physical presence between us。 。 。 。
〃Tell me；〃 I said presently； to break the intolerable tension； 〃tell
me plainly what you mean by this。〃
I sat a little away from her； and then took my teacup in hand； with
an odd effect of defending myself。 〃Have you been reading that old
book of mine？〃 I asked。
〃That and the paper。 I took a complete set from the beginning down
to Durham with me。 I have read it over； thought it over。 I didn't
understandwhat you were teaching。〃
There was a little pause。
〃It all seems so plain to me now；〃 she said； 〃and so true。〃
I was profoundly disconcerted。 I put down my teacup； stood up in
the middle of the hearthrug； and began talking。 〃I'm tremendously
glad； Margaret； that you've come to see I'm not altogether
perverse；〃 I began。 I launched out into a rather trite and windy
exposition of my views； and she sat close to me on the sofa； looking
up into my face； hanging on my words； a deliberate and invincible
convert。
〃Yes；〃 she said； 〃yes。〃 。 。 。
I had never doubted my new conceptions before； now I doubted them
profoundly。 But I went on talking。 It's the grim irony in the
lives of all politicians； writers； public teachers； that once the
audience is at their feet； a new loyalty has gripped them。 It isn't
their business to admit doubt and imperfections。 They have to go on
talking。 And I was now so accustomed to Isabel's vivid interruptions；
qualifications； restatements； and confirmations。 。 。 。
Margaret and I dined together at home。 She made me open out my
political projects to her。 〃I have been foolish；〃 she said。 〃I
want to help。〃
And by some excuse I have forgotten she made me come to her room。 I
think it was some book I had to take her； some American book I had
brought back with me； and mentioned in our talk。 I walked in with
it； and put it down on the table and turned to go。
〃Husband！〃 she cried； and held out her slender arms to me。 I was
compelled to go to her and kiss her； and she twined them softly
about my neck and drew me to her and kissed me。 I disentangled them
very gently； and took each wrist and kissed it； and the backs of her
hands。
〃Good…night；〃 I said。 There came a little pause。 〃Good…night；
Margaret；〃 I repeated； and walked very deliberately and with a kind
of sham preoccupation to the door。
I did not look at her； but I could feel her standing； watching me。
If I had looked up； she would； I knew； have held out her arms to
me。 。 。 。
At the very outset that secret； which was to touch no one but Isabel
and myself； had reached out to stab another human being。
7
The whole world had changed for Isabel and me； and we tried to
pretend that nothing had changed except a small matter between us。
We believed quite honestly at that time that it was possible to keep
this thing that had happened from any reaction at all； save perhaps
through some magically enhanced vigour in our work； upon the world
about us！ Seen in retrospect； one can realise the absurdity of this
belief； within a week I realised it； but that does not alter the
fact that we did believe as much； and that people who are deeply in
love and unable to marry will continue to believe so to the very end
of time。 They will continue to believe out of existence every
consideration that separates them until they have come together。
Then they will count the cost； as we two had to do。
I am telling a story； and not propounding theories in this book； and
chiefly I am telling of the ideas and influences and emotions that
have happened to meme as a sort of sounding board for my world。
The moralist is at liberty to go over my conduct with his measure
and say； 〃At this point or at that you went wrong； and you ought to
have done〃so…and…so。 The point of interest to the statesman is
that it didn't for a moment occur to us to do so…and…so when the
time for doing it came。 It amazes me now to think how little either
of us troubled about the established rights or wrongs of the
situation。 We hadn't an atom of respect for them； innate or
acquired。 The guardians of public morals will say we were very bad
people； I submit in defence that they are very bad guardians
provocative guardians。 。 。 。 And when at last there came a claim
against us that had an effective validity for us； we were in the
full tide of passionate intimacy。
I had a night of nearly sleepless perplexity after Margaret's
return。 She had suddenly presented herself to me like something
dramatically recalled； fine； generous； infinitely capable of
feeling。 I was amazed how much I had forgotten her。 In my contempt
for vulgarised and conventionalised honour I had forgotten that for
me there was such a reality as honour。 And here it was； warm and
near to me； living； breathing； unsuspecting。 Margaret's pride was
my honour； that I had had no right even to imperil。
I do not now remember if I thought at that time of going to Isabel
and putting this new aspect of the case before her。 Perhaps I did。
Perhaps I may have considered even then the possibility of ending
what had so freshly and passionately begun。 If I did； it vanished
next day at the sight of her。 Whatever regrets came in the
darkness； the daylight brought an obstinate confidence in our
resolution again。 We would； we declared； 〃pull the thing off。〃
Margaret must not know。 Margaret should not know。 If Margaret did
not know； then no harm whatever would be done。 We tried to sustain
that。 。 。 。
For a brief time we had been like two people in a magic cell；
magically cut off from the world and full of a light of its own； and
then we began to realise that we were not in the least cut off； that
the world was all about us and pressing in upon us； limiting us；
threatening us； resuming possession of us。 I tried to ignore the
injury to Margaret of her unreciprocated advances。 I tried to
maintain to myself that this hidden love made no difference to the
now irreparable breach between husband and wife。 But I never spoke
of it to Isabel or let her see that aspect of our case。 How could
I？ The time for that had gone。 。 。 。
Then in new shapes and relations came trouble。 Distressful elements
crept in by reason of our unavoidable furtiveness； we ignored them；
hid them from each other； and attempted to hide them from ourselves。
Successful love is a thing of abounding pride； and we had to be
secret。 It was delightful at first to be secret； a whispering； warm
conspiracy； then presently it became irksome and a little shameful。
Her essential frankness of soul was all against the masks and
falsehoods that many women would have enjoyed。 Together in our
secrecy we relaxed； then in the presence of other people again it
was tiresome to have to watch for the careless； too easy phrase； to
snatch back one's hand from the limitless betrayal of a light；
familiar touch。
Love becomes a poor thing； at best a poor beautiful thing； if it
develops no continuing and habitual intimacy。 We were always
meeting； and most gloriously loving and beginningand then we had
to snatch at remorseless ticking watches； hurry to catch trains； and
go back to this or that。 That is all very well for the intrigues of
idle people perhaps； but not for an intense personal relationship。
It is like lighting a candle for the sake of lighting it； over and
over again； and each time blowing it out。 That； no doubt； mus