plication of dead reality; then what had his under…life to do
with her? Ones social wife was almost a material symbol。
Whereas now she was something more vivid to him than anything in
conventional life could be。 She gave the plete lie to all
conventional life; he and she stood together; dark; fluid;
infinitely potent; giving the living lie to the dead whole which
contained them。
He watched her pensive; puzzled face。
〃I dont think I want to marry you;〃 she said; her brow
clouded。
It piqued him rather。
〃Why not?〃 he asked。
〃Lets think about it afterwards; shall we?〃 she said。
He was crossed; yet he loved her violently。
〃Youve got a museau; not a face;〃 he said。
〃Have I?〃 she cried; her face lighting up like a pure flame。
She thought she had escaped。 Yet he returned……he was not
satisfied。
〃Why?〃 he asked; 〃why dont you want to marry me?〃
〃I dont want to be with other people;〃 she said。 〃I want to
be like this。 Ill tell you if ever I want to marry you。〃
〃All right;〃 he said。
He would rather the thing was left indefinite; and that she
took the responsibility。
They talked of the Easter vacation。 She thought only of
plete enjoyment。
They went to an hotel in Piccadilly。 She was supposed to be
his wife。 They bought a wedding…ring for a shilling; from a shop
in a poor quarter。
They had revoked altogether the ordinary mortal world。 Their
confidence was like a possession upon them。 They were possessed。
Perfectly and supremely free they felt; proud beyond all
question; and surpassing mortal conditions。
They were perfect; therefore nothing else existed。 The world
was a world of servants whom one civilly ignored。 Wherever they