upon the clasped fingers, with a sweeping, comprehensive glare of
passion.

"This is what you have done to me, then!"

His voice was unrecognizable in his own ears--hoarse and broken, but
with a fright-compelling something in it which stimulated his rage. The
horrible notion of killing her, there where she sat, spread over the
chaos of his mind with an effect of unearthly light--red and abnormally
evil. It was like that first devilish radiance ushering in Creation, of
which the first-fruit was Cain. Why should he not kill her? In all ages,
women had been slain for less. Yes--and men had been hanged. Something
rose and stuck in his dry throat; and as he swallowed it down, the
sinister flare of murderous fascination died suddenly away into
darkness. The world was all black again--plunged in the Egyptian night
which lay upon the face of the deep while the earth was yet without form
and void. He was alone on it--alone among awful, planetary solitudes
which crushed him.

The sight of Celia, sitting motionless only a pace in front of him, was
plain enough to his eyes. It was an illusion. She was really a star,
many millions of miles away. These things were hard to understand; but
they were true, none the less. People seemed to be about him, but in
fact he was alone. He recalled that even the little child in the car,
playing with those two buttons on a string, would have nothing to do
with him. Take his money, yes; take all he would give her--but not smile
at him, not come within reach of him! Men closed the doors of their
houses against him. The universe held him at arm's length as a nuisance.

He was standing with one knee upon a sofa. Unconsciously he had moved