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He did not count the days But like a man who journeys in a

ship, he was suspended till the co, he worked in his office, he caht or

question

She was much more alive She wanted to enjoy courtship He

see why or

whither But she wanted to enjoy his presence For her, he was

the kernel of life, to touch him alone was bliss But for him,

she was the essence of life She existed asin Ilkeston, as when she sat looking

at him in the Marsh kitchen In himself, he knew her But his

outward faculties seemed suspended He did not see her with his

eyes, nor hear her with his voice

And yet he tre

her in his arether in

the barn, in silence Then to her, as she felt his young, tense

figure with her hands, the bliss was intolerable, intolerable

the sense that she possessed him For his body was so keen and

wonderful, it was the only reality in her world In her world,

there was this one tense, vivid body of a man, and then many

other shadowy men, all unreal In hiether, he and she, at the heart of the

secret How she clutched him to her, his body the central body

of all life Out of the rock of his form the very fountain of

life flowed

But to him, she was a flame that consuh him, till he was consumed,

till he existed only as an unconscious, dark transit of fla frohed There was, in the