had led to his former marriage, was this burning constant flame. Paula
was utterly content with him. She had given up her career for him.--No.
She hadn't done that. He had not asked her to do that. Had not, on the
contrary, her marriage really furthered it? Was she not more of a person
to-day than the discouraged young woman he had found singing for
pittances the leading dramatic soprano rôles in the minor municipal
operas of Germany and Austria? Wasn't that what she had said this
morning--that falling in love with him was the best thing that could
possibly have happened to her? He had taken it wrong when she said it, as
if she were regarding him just as an instrument that served her purpose,
a purpose that lay beyond him; outside him.

That was what had given him that momentary pang of terror. Fatigue, of
course. He ought to go to sleep. Paula was refraining from her morning
practise just so that he could. Or was that why? Was she dreaming, up in
the music room where she was never to be disturbed,--of last night--of
Novelli? Damnation....




CHAPTER II

SEA DRIFT


Paula went up to the music room after breakfast, stood at one of its
open windows for a few minutes breathing in the air of an unusually
mild March and then abruptly left it; dressed for the street and went
out for a walk.