More dreadful even than the case of his father and mother, for
they, until they married, had got on pretty well. But this man
was already rude and brutal and cold: he was still the school
bully who twisted up the arms of little boys, and ran pins into
them at chapel, and struck them in the stomach when they were
swinging on the horizontal bar. Poor Agnes; why ever had she done
it? Ought not somebody to interfere?

He had forgotten his sandwiches, and went back to get them.

Gerald and Agnes were locked in each other's arms.

He only looked for a moment, but the sight burnt into his brain.
The man's grip was the stronger. He had drawn the woman on to his
knee, was pressing her, with all his strength, against him.
Already her hands slipped off him, and she whispered, "Don't you
hurt--" Her face had no expression. It stared at the intruder
and never saw him. Then her lover kissed it, and immediately it
shone with mysterious beauty, like some star.

Rickie limped away without the sandwiches, crimson and afraid. He
thought, "Do such things actually happen?" and he seemed to be
looking down coloured valleys. Brighter they glowed, till gods of
pure flame were born in them, and then he was looking at
pinnacles of virgin snow. While Mr. Pembroke talked, the riot of
fair images increased.

They invaded his being and lit lamps at unsuspected shrines.
Their orchestra commenced in that suburban house, where he had to
stand aside for the maid to carry in the luncheon. Music flowed