dust of centuries; a great wine-press. She was continuing her speech.

"As for you--you are only a detail, like all the others; you were set in
a place because you would act as you did. It was in your character. We
inherit the earth and you, your day is over.... You remember that day,
when I found you--the first day?"

I remembered that day. It was on the downland, under the immense sky,
amid the sound of larks. She had explained the nature of things. She
had talked expressionlessly in pregnant words; she was talking now. I
knew no more of her to-day, after all these days, after I had given up
to her my past and my future.

"You remember that day. I was looking for such a man, and I found you."

"And you ..." I said, "you have done this thing! Think of it!... I have
nobody--nothing--nowhere in the world. I cannot look a man in the face,
not even Churchill. I can never go to him again." I paused, expecting a
sign of softening. None came. "I have parted with my past and you tell
me there is no future."

"None," she echoed. Then, coldly, as a swan takes the water, she began
to speak:

"Well, yes! I've hurt you. You have suffered and in your pain you think
me vile, but remember that for ages the virtue of to-morrow has been the
vileness of to-day. That which outstrips one, one calls vile. My virtue
lies in gaining my end. Pity for you would have been a crime for me. You
have suffered. And then? What are you to me? As I came among you I am
to-day; that is where I am triumphant and virtuous. I have succeeded.