Loving Natalie did not preclude the possibility of his loving another, perhaps many others. "A rich man might have many marriages," he thought. It was certain that the possibility of human relationship had not even been tapped yet. Something had stood in the way of a sufficiently broad acceptance of life. One had to accept oneself and the others before one could love.

As for himself he had to accept now his wife and daughter, draw close to them for a little before he went away with Natalie. It was a difficult thing to think about. He lay with wide open eyes in his bed and tried to send his fancy into his wife's room. He could not do it. His fancy could go into his daughter's room and look at her lying asleep in her bed, but with his wife it was different. Something within him drew back. "Not now. Do not try it. It is not permitted. If she is ever to have a lover now it must be another," a voice within him said.

"Did she do something that has destroyed the. possibility of that or did I?" he asked himself sitting up in bed. There was no doubt a human relationship had been spoiled messed. "It is not permitted. It is not permitted to make a mess on the floor of the temple," the answering voice within said sternly.

To John Webster it seemed that the voices in the room spoke so loudly that as he lay down again and tried to sleep he was a little surprised that they had not awakened the others in the house.

II

Into the air of the Webster house and into the air also of John Webster's office and factory a new element had come. On all sides of him there was a straining at something within. When he was not alone or in the company of Natalie he no longer breathed freely. "You have done us an injury. You are doing us an injury," everyone else seemed to be saying.

He wondered about that, tried to think about it. The presence of Natalie gave him each day a breathing time. When he sat beside her in the office he breathed freely, the tight thing within him relaxed. It was because she was simple and straightforward. She said little, but her eyes spoke often. "It's all right. I love you. I am not afraid to love you," her eyes said.

However he thought constantly of the others. The book-keeper refused to look into his eyes or spoke with a new and elaborate politeness. He had already got into the habit of discussing the matter of John Webster and Natalie's affair every evening with his wife. In the presence of his employer he now felt self-conscious and it was the same with the two older women in the office. As he passed through the office the younger of the three still sometimes looked up and smiled at him.

It was no doubt a fact that no man could do a quite isolated thing in the modern world of men. Sometimes when John Webster was walking homeward late at night, after having spent some hours with Natalie, he stopped and looked about him. The street was deserted and the lights had been put out in many of the houses. He raised his two arms and looked at them. They had recently held a woman, tightly, tightly and the woman was not the one with whom he had lived for so many years, but a new woman he had found. His arms had held her tightly and her arms had held him. There had been joy in that. Joy had run through their two bodies during the long embrace. They had breathed deeply. Had the breath blown out of their lungs poisoned the air others had to breathe? As to the woman, who was called his wife she had wanted no such embraces, or, had she wanted them, had been unable to take or give. A notion came to him. "If you love in a loveless world you face others with the sin of not loving," he thought.