verse last spring? Surely now is your singing season. By the time we are thirty the springs of pure lyric passion are usually exhausted." [Pg 87] Ethel's inquiry somehow startled him. In truth, he could find no satisfactory answer. A remark relative to his play—Clarke's play—rose to the threshold of his lips, but he almost bit his tongue as soon as he realised that the strange delusion which had possessed him that night still dominated the undercurrents of his cerebration. No, he had accomplished but little during the last few months—at least, by way of creative literature. So he replied that he had made money. "That is something," he said. "Besides, who can turn out a masterpiece every week? An artist's brain is not a machine, and in the respite from creative work I have gathered strength for the future. But," he added, slightly annoyed, "you are not listening." His exclamation brought her back from the train of thoughts that his words had suggested. For in his reasoning she had recognised the [Pg 88]same arguments that she had hourly repeated to herself in defence of her inactivity when she was living under the baneful influence of Reginald Clarke. Yes, baneful; for the first time she dared to confess it to herself. In a flash the truth dawned upon her that it was not her love alone, but something else, something irresistable and very mysterious, that had dried up the well of creation in her. Could it be that the same power was now exerting its influence upon the struggling soul of this talented boy? Rack her brains as she might, she could not definitely formulate her apprehensions and a troubled look came into her eyes. [Pg 88] "Ethel," the boy repeated, impatiently, "why are you not listening? Do you realise that I must leave you in half an hour?" She looked at him with deep tenderness. Something like a tear lent a soft radiance to her large child-like eyes. Ernest saw it and was profoundly moved. In that moment he loved her passionately. "Foolish boy," she said softly; then, lowering her voice to a whisper: "You may kiss me before you go." [Pg 89]His lips gently touched hers, but she took his head between her hands and pressed her mouth upon his in a long kiss. [Pg 89]
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