people who don't feel it aren't really married—and they'd better separate; much better. As for us—"
Through her tears she gasped out: "That's what I felt . . . that's what I said to Streff. . . ."
He was upon her with a great embrace. "My darling! My darling! You have told him?"
"Yes," she panted. "That's why I'm living here." She paused. "And you've told Coral?"
She felt his embrace relax. He drew away a little, still holding her, but with lowered head.
"No . . . I . . . haven't."
"Oh, Nick! But then—?"
He caught her to him again, resentfully. "Well—then what? What do you mean? What earthly difference does it make?"
"But if you've told her you were going to marry her—" (Try as she would, her voice was full of silver chimes.)
"Marry her? Marry her?" he echoed. "But how could I? What does marriage mean anyhow? If it means anything at all it means—you! And I can't ask Coral Hicks just to come and live with me, can I?"
Between crying and laughing she lay on his breast, and his hand passed over her hair.
They were silent for a while; then he began again: "You said it yourself yesterday, you know."
She strayed back from sunlit distances. "Yesterday?"
