“Like animals,” said Nettie.

“Yes. . . .”

“There are many things in life,” I said, “but that is the rough universal truth.”

“But,” said Nettie, “you don’t struggle.  That has been altered because men have minds.”

“You choose,” I said.

“If I don’t choose to choose?”

“You have chosen.”

She gave a little impatient “Oh!  Why are women always the slaves of sex?  Is this great age of Reason and Light that has come to alter nothing of that?  And men too!  I think it is all—­stupid.  I do not believe this is the right solution of the thing, or anything but the bad habits of the time that was. . .  Instinct!  You don’t let your instincts rule you in a lot of other things.  Here am I between you.  Here is Edward.  I—­love him because he is gay and pleasant, and because—­because I like him!  Here is Willie—­a part of me—­my first secret, my oldest friend!  Why must I not have both?  Am I not a mind that you must think of me as nothing but a woman? imagine me always as a thing to struggle for?” She paused; then she made her distressful proposition to me.  “Let us three keep together,” she said.  “Let us not part.  To part is hate, Willie.  Why should we not anyhow keep friends?  Meet and talk?”

“Talk?” I said.  “About this sort of thing?”

I looked across at Verrall and met his eyes, and we studied one another.  It was the clean, straight scrutiny of honest antagonism.  “No,” I decided.  “Between us, nothing of that sort can be.”

“Ever?” said Nettie.

“Never,” I said, convinced.

I made an effort within myself.  “We cannot tamper with the law and customs of these things,” I said; “these passions are too close to one’s essential self.  Better surgery than a lingering disease!  From Nettie my love—­asks all.  A man’s love is not devotion—­it is a demand, a challenge.  And besides”—­and here I forced my theme—­“I have given myself now to a new mistress—­and it is I, Nettie, who am unfaithful.  Behind you and above you rises the coming City of the World, and I am in that building.  Dear heart! you are only happiness--and that------Indeed that calls!  If it is only that my life blood shall christen the foundation stones—­I could almost hope that should be my part, Nettie—­I will join myself in that.”  I threw all the conviction I could into these words. . . .  “No conflict of passion.”  I added a little lamely, “must distract me.”

There was a pause.

“Then we must part,” said Nettie, with the eyes of a woman one strikes in the face.

I nodded assent. . . .

There was a little pause, and then I stood up.  We stood up, all three.  We parted almost sullenly, with no more memorable words, and I was left presently in the arbor alone.

I do not think I watched them go.  I only remember myself left there somehow—­horribly empty and alone.  I sat down again and fell into a deep shapeless musing.