“Thanks,” said Gorst, checking the alacrity with which he rose to go to Edith.

Oh yes, he knew it was the best thing he could do.

Edith’s voice called gladly to him as he tapped at her door.  He entered noiselessly, wearing the wondering and expectant look with which a new worshipper enters a holy place.  Perpetual backslidings kept poor Gorst’s worship perpetually new.

Colour came slowly back into Edith’s face and a tender light into her eyes, as if from the springing of some deep untroubled well of life.  She seemed more than ever a creature of imperial vitality, bound by some cruel enchantment to her couch.  She held out her hands to him; and he raised them to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly.

“It’s weeks since I’ve seen you,” said she.

“Months, isn’t it?” said he.

“Weeks, three weeks, by the calendar.”

“I say—­tell me—­I am to come and see you, just the same?”

“Just the same?  Why, what’s different?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  But it seems to me, when a man’s married, it’s bound to make a difference.”

Edith’s colour mounted; she made an effort to control the trembling of her mouth, the soft woman’s mouth where all that was bodily in her love still lingered.  But the sweetness deepened in her eyes, which were the dwelling-place of the immortal, immaterial power.  They met Gorst’s eyes steadily, laying on his restlessness their peace.

“Are you going to be married, Charlie?” said she, and smiled bravely.

He laughed.  “Oh, Lord, no; not I.”

“Who is, then?”

“Walter, of course.  I mean he is married, don’t you know.”

“Yes, and is there any difference in him to you?”

“In him?  Oh, rather not.”

“In whom, then?”

“Well—­I don’t think, Edie, that Mrs. Walter—­I like her—­” he stuck to it—­“I like her, you know, she’s charming, but—­I don’t think she particularly cares for me.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do I know anything?  By the way she looks at me.”

“Oh, the way Anne looks at people—­”

“Well, you know, it’s something tremendous, something terrible.  Unutterable things, you know.  She knocks the Inquisition and the day of judgment all to pieces.  They’re simply not in it.  It’s awfully hard lines on me, you see, because I like her.”

“I’m glad you like her.”

“Oh, I only like her because she likes you, I think.”

“And I like her.  Please remember that.”

“I do remember it.  I say, Edie, tell me, is she awfully devoted and all that?”

“To Walter?  Yes, very devoted.”

“That’s all right, then.  I don’t think I mind so much now.  As long as I can come and see you just the same.”

“Of course you’ll come and see me, just the same.”