"We have to carry the whole affair on to a Higher Plane--and keep it
there. We two love one another--that has to be admitted now. (I ought
never to have touched her. I ought never to have thought of touching
her.) But we two are too high, our aims and work and obligations are too
high for any ordinary love making. That sort of thing would embarrass
us, would spoil everything.
"Spoil everything," he repeated, rather like a small boy who learns an
unpalatable lesson.
For a time Sir Richmond, exhausted by moral effort, lay staring at the
darkness.
"It has to be done. I believe I can carry her through with it if I can
carry myself. She's a finer thing than I am.... On the whole I am glad
it's only one more day. Belinda will be about.... Afterwards we can
write to each other.... If we can get over the next day it will be all
right. Then we can write about fuel and politics--and there won't be
her voice and her presence. We shall really SUBLIMATE.... First class
idea--sublimate!.... And I will go back to dear old Martin who's all
alone there and miserable; I'll be kind to her and play my part and tell
her her Carbuncle scar rather becomes her.... And in a little while I
shall be altogether in love with her again.
"Queer what a brute I've always been to Martin.
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