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curious and I think a very significant thing that since we had
become lovers； we had talked very little of the broader things that
had once so strongly gripped our imaginations。
〃It's good；〃 I said； 〃to talk like this to you； to get back to youth
and great ambitions with you。 There have been times lately when
politics has seemed the pettiest game played with mean tools for
mean endsand none the less so that the happiness of three hundred
million people might be touched by our follies。 I talk to no one
else like this。 。 。 。 And now I think of parting； I think but of
how much more I might have talked to you。〃 。 。 。
Things drew to an end at last； but after we had spoken of a thousand
things。
〃We've talked away our last half day；〃 I said； staring over my
shoulder at the blazing sunset sky behind us。 〃Dear； it's been the
last day of our lives for us。 。 。 。 It doesn't seem like the last
day of our lives。 Or any day。〃
〃I wonder how it will feel？〃 said Isabel。
〃It will be very strange at firstnot to be able to tell you
things。〃
〃I've a superstition that afterafter we've partedif ever I go
into my room and talk； you'll hear。 You'll besomewhere。〃
〃I shall be in the worldyes。〃
〃I don't feel as though these days ahead were real。 Here we are；
here we remain。〃
〃Yes； I feel that。 As though you and I were two immortals； who
didn't live in time and space at all； who never met； who couldn't
part； and here we lie on Olympus。 And those two poor creatures who
did meet； poor little Richard Remington and Isabel Rivers； who met
and loved too much and had to part； they part and go their ways； and
we lie here and watch them； you and I。 She'll cry； poor dear。〃
〃She'll cry。 She's crying now！〃
〃Poor little beasts！ I think he'll cry too。 He winces。 He could
for tuppence。 I didn't know he had lachrymal glands at all until a
little while ago。 I suppose all love is hystericaland a little
foolish。 Poor mites！ Silly little pitiful creatures！ How we have
blundered！ Think how we must look to God！ Well； we'll pity them；
and then we'll inspire him to stiffen up againand do as we've
determined he shall do。 We'll see it through；we who lie here on
the cliff。 They'll be mean at times； and horrid at times； we know
them！ Do you see her； a poor little fine lady in a great house；
she sometimes goes to her room and writes。〃
〃She writes for his BLUE WEEKLY still。〃
〃Yes。 SometimesI hope。 And he's there in the office with a bit
of her copy in his hand。〃
〃Is it as good as if she still talked it over with him before she
wrote it？ Is it？〃
〃Better； I think。 Let's play it's betteranyhow。 It may be that
talking over was rather mixed with love…making。 After all； love…
making is joy rather than magic。 Don't let's pretend about that
even。 。 。 。 Let's go on watching him。 （I don't see why her writing
shouldn't be better。 Indeed I don't。） See！ There he goes down
along the Embankment to Westminster just like a real man； for all
that he's smaller than a grain of dust。 What is running round
inside that speck of a head of his？ Look at him going past the
Policemen； specks tooselected large ones from the country。 I
think he's going to dinner with the Speakersome old thing like
that。 Is his face harder or commoner or stronger？I can't quite
see。 。 。 。 And now he's up and speaking in the House。 Hope he'll
hold on to the thread。 He'll have to plan his speeches to the very
end of his daysand learn the headings。〃
〃Isn't she up in the women's gallery to hear him？〃
〃No。 Unless it's by accident。〃
〃She's there；〃 she said。
〃Well； by accident it happens。 Not too many accidents； Isabel。
Never any more adventures for us； dear； now。 No！ 。 。 。 They play
the game； you know。 They've begun late； but now they've got to。
You see it's not so very hard for them since you and I； my dear； are
here always； always faithfully here on this warm cliff of love
accomplished； watching and helping them under high heaven。 It isn't
so VERY hard。 Rather good in some ways。 Some people HAVE to be
broken a little。 Can you see Altiora down there； by any chance？〃
〃She's too little to be seen；〃 she said。
〃Can you see the sins they once committed？〃
〃I can only see you here beside me； dearfor ever。 For all my
life； dear； till I die。 Was thatthe sin？〃 。 。 。
I took her to the station； and after she had gone I was to drive to
Dover； and cross to Calais by the night boat。 I couldn't； I felt；
return to London。 We walked over the crest and down to the little
station of Martin Mill side by side； talking at first in broken
fragments； for the most part of unimportant things。
〃None of this；〃 she said abruptly； 〃seems in the slightest degree
real to me。 I've got no sense of things ending。〃
〃We're parting；〃 I said。
〃We're partingas people part in a play。 It's distressing。 But I
don't feel as though you and I were really never to see each other
again for years。 Do you？〃
I thought。 〃No；〃 I said。
〃After we've parted I shall look to talk it over with you。〃
〃So shall I。〃
〃That's absurd。〃
〃Absurd。〃
〃I feel as if you'd always he there； just about where you are now。
Invisible perhaps； but there。 We've spent so much of our lives
joggling elbows。〃 。 。 。
〃Yes。 Yes。 I don't in the least realise it。 I suppose I shall
begin to when the train goes out of the station。 Are we wanting in
imagination； Isabel？〃
〃I don't know。 We've always assumed it was the other way about。〃
〃Even when the train goes out of the station！ I've seen you into
so many trains。〃
〃I shall go on thinking of things to say to youthings to put in
your letters。 For years to come。 How can I ever stop thinking in
that way now？ We've got into each other's brains。〃
〃It isn't real；〃 I said； 〃nothing is real。 The world's no more than
a fantastic dream。 Why are we parting； Isabel？〃
〃I don't know。 It seems now supremely silly。 I suppose we have to。
Can't we meet？don't you think we shall meet even in dreams？〃
〃We'll meet a thousand times in dreams；〃 I said。
〃I wish we could dream at the same time；〃 said Isabel。 。 。 。 〃Dream
walks。 I can't believe； dear； I shall never have a walk with you
again。〃
〃If I'd stayed six months in America；〃 I said； 〃we might have walked
long walks and talked long talks for all our lives。〃
〃Not in a world of Baileys；〃 said Isabel。 〃And anyhow〃
She stopped short。 I looked interrogation。
〃We've loved；〃 she said。
I took her ticket； saw to her luggage； and stood by the door of the
compartment。 〃Good…bye；〃 I said a little stiffly； conscious of the
people upon the platform。 She bent above me； white and dusky；
looking at me very steadfastly。
〃Come here；〃 she whispered。 〃Never mind the porters。 What can they
know？ Just one time moreI must。〃
She rested her hand against the door of the carriage and bent down
upon me； and put her cold； moist lips to mine。
CHAPTER THE THIRD
THE BREAKING POINT
1
And then we broke down。 We broke our faith with both Margaret and
Shoesmith； flung career and duty out of our lives； and went away
together。
It is only now； almost a year after these events； that I can begin
to see what happened to me。 At the time it seemed to me I was a
rational； responsible creature； but indeed I had not parted from her
two days before I became a monomaniac to whom nothing could matter
but Isabel。 Every truth had to be squared to that obsession； every
duty。 It astounds me to think how I forgot Margaret； forgot my
work； forgot everything but that we two were parted。 I still
believe that with better chances we might have escaped the
consequences of the emotional storm that presently seized us both。
But we had no foresight of that； and no preparation for it； and our
circumstances betrayed us。 It was partly Shoesmith's unwisdom in
delaying his marriage until after the end of the sessionpartly my
own amazing folly in returning within four days to Westminster。 But
we were all of us intent upon the defeat of scandal and the complete
restoration of appearances。 It seemed necessary that Shoesmith's
marriage should not seem to be hurried； still more necessary that I
should not vanish inexplicably。 I had to be visible with Margaret
in London just as much as possible； we went to restaurants； we
visited the theatre； we could even contemplate the possibility of my
presence at the wedding。 For that； however； we had schemed a
weekend visit to Wales； and a fictitious sprained ankle at the last
moment which would justify my absence。 。 。 。
I cannot convey to you the intolerable wretchedness and rebellion of
my separation from Isabel。 It seemed