It was there, for instance, that the youngest Miss Keith (the pretty one) decided to marry Jerry Clarkson, junior (and regretted it all her life).  It was there that Mrs. Keene first suspected the new principal of the Collegiate Institute of Bolshevik tendencies. (He had said that, in his opinion, kings were bound to go.) And it was there that Miss Ellis spoke to Miss Sutherland for the first time in three years. (She asked her if she would have lemon or chocolate cake—­a clear matter of social duty.) It was there also that Miss Mary Sophia Watkins, Dr. Rogers’ capable nurse, decided finally that a longer stay in Bainbridge would be wasted time.  It was the first time she had actually seen her admired doctor and the object of his supposed regard together, and a certain look which she surprised on Dr. John’s face as his eyes followed Desire across the lawn, convinced her so thoroughly that, like a sensible girl, she packed up that night and went back to the city.

Perhaps it was that very look which also decided Spence.  For decide he did.  There was no excuse for waiting longer.  He must “have it out” with John. desire must be given her freedom.  Of John’s attitude he had small doubt.  His infatuation for Desire had been plain from the beginning.  Time had served only to centre and strengthen it.  He could not in justice blame John.  He didn’t blame John.  That is to say, he would not officially permit himself to blame John, though he knew very well that he did blame him.  A sense of the rights of other people as opposed to one’s own rights has been hardly gained by the Race, and is by no means firmly seated yet.  Let primitive passions slip control for an instant and presto! good-bye to the rights of other people!  The primitive man in Spence would not have argued the matter.  Having obtained his mate by any means at all, it would have gone hard with anyone who, however justly, attempted to take her from him.  Today, at Mrs. Burton-Jones’ garden party, the acquired restraints of character seemed wearing thin.  The professor decided that it might be advisable to go home.

Desire and Mary noticed his absence at about the same time.  And both lost interest in the party with the suddenness of a light blown out.

“Things are moving,” thought Mary with a thrill of triumph.  But in spite of her triumph she was angry.  It is not pleasant to have the power of one’s rival so starkly revealed.  Malice crept into her faun-like eyes as she looked across to where Desire sat, a composed young figure, listening with apparent interest to the biggest bore in Bainbridge.  What right had she to hold a man’s hot heart between her placid hands!  Mary ground her parasol into Mrs. Burton-Jones’ best sod and her small white teeth shut grindingly behind her lips.

Desire was trying to listen to the little man with the enlarged ego who attempted to entertain her.  But she was very much aware of Mary and all her moods.  “She is selfish.  She will make him miserable,” thought desire.  “But she will make him happy first.  And, in any case, he must be free.”