to her previous position, close upon him. "What do you want to leave it for?"
And gradually the intoxication invaded him again, the zest came back. After all, why should he not take her?
But she did not yield to him entirely.
"Are you a married man?" she asked at length.
"What if I am?" he said.
She did not answer.
"I don't ask you whether you're married or not," he said.
"You know jolly well I'm not," she answered hotly. Oh, if she could only break away from him, if only she need not yield to him.
At length her will became cold against him. She had escaped. But she hated him for her escape more than for her danger. Did he despise her so coldly? And she was in torture of adherence to him still.
"Shall I see you next week—next Saturday?" he said, as they returned to the town. She did not answer.
"Come to the Empire with me—you and Gertie," he said.
"I should look well, going with a married man," she said.
"I'm no less of a man for being married, am I?" he said.
"Oh, it's a different matter altogether with a married man," she said, in a ready-made speech that showed her chagrin.
"How's that?" he asked.
But she would not enlighten him. Yet she promised, without promising, to be at the meeting-place next Saturday evening.
So he left her. He did not know her name. He caught a train and went home.
It was the last train, he was very late. He was not home till midnight. But he was quite indifferent. He had no real relation with his home, not this man which he now was. Anna was sitting up for him. She saw the queer, absolved look on his face, a sort of latent, almost sinister smile, as if he were absolved from his "good" ties.
"Where have you been?" she asked, puzzled, interested.
"To the Empire."
"Who with?"
"By myself. I came home with Tom Cooper."
She looked at him, and wondered what he had been doing. She was indifferent as to whether he lied or not.
"You have come home very strange," she said. And there was an appreciative inflexion in the speech.
