She tried to answer, and only made a sign of faint assent. She no
longer comprehended herself or the emotions menacing her. A
curious tranquillity quieted her at moments--intervals in which she
seemed to sit apart watching the development of another woman,
listening to her own speech, patient with her own silences. There
was a droop to her shoulders now; his own were sagging as he leaned
slightly forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees, while
around them the magic ebbed, eddied, ebbed; and lassitude succeeded
tension; and she stirred, looked up at him with eyes that seemed
dazed at first, then widened slowly into waking; and he saw in them
the first clear dawn of alarm. Suddenly she flushed and sprang to
her feet, the bright colour surging to her hair.

"Don't!" he said. "Don't reason! There will be nothing left of me
if you do--or of, these moments. You will hate them--and me, if
you reason. Don't think--until we see each other again!"

She dropped her eyes slowly, and slowly shook her head.

"You ask too much," she said. "You should not have said that."
All the glamour was fading. Her senses were seeking their balance
after the incredible storm that had whirled them into chaos.

Fear stirred sharply, then consternation--flashes of panic pierced
her with darts of shame, as though she had been in physical contact
with this man.

All her outraged soul leaped to arms, quivering now under the
reaction; the man's mere presence was becoming unendurable; the
room stifled her. She turned, scarce knowing what she was doing;