"But it is true that you will go.You will surely.Not because of those people but because of me.You will go away because you feel you must."With every word urging me to get away, her clasp tightened, she hugged my head closer to her breast.I submitted, knowing well that I could free myself by one more effort which it was in my power to make.But before I made it, in a sort of desperation, Ipressed a long kiss into the hollow of her throat.And lo - there was no need for any effort.With a stifled cry of surprise her arms fell off me as if she had been shot.I must have been giddy, and perhaps we both were giddy, but the next thing I knew there was a good foot of space between us in the peaceful glow of the ground-glass globes, in the everlasting stillness of the winged figures.

Something in the quality of her exclamation, something utterly unexpected, something I had never heard before, and also the way she was looking at me with a sort of incredulous, concentrated attention, disconcerted me exceedingly.I knew perfectly well what I had done and yet I felt that I didn't understand what had happened.I became suddenly abashed and I muttered that I had better go and dismiss that poor Dominic.She made no answer, gave no sign.She stood there lost in a vision - or was it a sensation?

- of the most absorbing kind.I hurried out into the hall, shamefaced, as if I were making my escape while she wasn't looking.

And yet I felt her looking fixedly at me, with a sort of stupefaction on her features - in her whole attitude - as though she had never even heard of such a thing as a kiss in her life.

A dim lamp (of Pompeiian form) hanging on a long chain left the hall practically dark.Dominic, advancing towards me from a distant corner, was but a little more opaque shadow than the others.He had expected me on board every moment till about three o'clock, but as I didn't turn up and gave no sign of life in any other way he started on his hunt.He sought news of me from the garcons at the various cafes, from the cochers de fiacre in front of the Exchange, from the tobacconist lady at the counter of the fashionable Debit de Tabac, from the old man who sold papers outside the cercle, and from the flower-girl at the door of the fashionable restaurant where I had my table.That young woman, whose business name was Irma, had come on duty about mid-day.She said to Dominic: "I think I've seen all his friends this morning but I haven't seen him for a week.What has become of him?""That's exactly what I want to know," Dominic replied in a fury and then went back to the harbour on the chance that I might have called either on board or at Madame Leonore's cafe.

I expressed to him my surprise that he should fuss about me like an old hen over a chick.It wasn't like him at all.And he said that "en effet" it was Madame Leonore who wouldn't give him any peace.