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THE CRISIS
"What he felt for her and what he felt for me."
"But did he?"
"He has made it clearer. But still even now. No, I don't understand."
She turned slowly and watched Melville's face as she spoke: "You know, Mr. Melville, that this has been an enormous shock to me. I suppose I never really knew him. I suppose I—idealised him. I thought he cared for—our work at any rate. . . . He did care for our work. He believed in it. Surely he believed in it."
"He does," said Melville.
"And then— But how can he?"
"He is—he is a man with rather a strong imagination."
"Or a weak will?"
"Relatively—yes."
"It is so strange," she sighed. "It is so inconsistent. It is like a child catching
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