brutes and savages, but for men--no! We must part and I must forget. What else is there but that?"
I did not look up, I sat very tense with the red petals printing an indelible memory in my brain, but I felt the assent of Verrall's pose. There were some moments of silence. Then Nettie spoke. "But--" she said, and ceased.
I waited for a little while. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "It is perfectly simple," I smiled, "now that we have cool heads."
"But is it simple?" asked Nettie, and slashed my discourse out of being.
I looked up and found her with her eyes on Verrall. "You see," she said, "I like Willie. It's hard to say what one feels--but I don't want him to go away like that."
"But then," objected Verrall, "how--?"
"No," said Nettie, and swept her half-arranged carnation petals back into a heap of confusion. She began to arrange them very quickly into one long straight line.
"It's so difficult--I've never before in all my life tried to get to the bottom of my mind. For one thing I've not treated Willie properly. He--he counted on me. I know he did. I was his hope. I was a promised delight--something, something to crown life--better than anything he had ever had. And a secret pride. . . . He lived upon me. I knew--when we two
