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together； they must be free to go as far as they may want to go；
without the vindictive destruction that has come upon us。 On the
basis of the accepted codes the jealous people are right； and the
liberal…minded ones are playing with fire。 If people are not to
love； then they must be kept apart。 If they are not to be kept
apart； then we must prepare for an unprecedented toleration of
lovers。
Isabel was as unforeseeing as I to begin with； but sex marches into
the life of an intelligent girl with demands and challenges far more
urgent than the mere call of curiosity and satiable desire that
comes to a young man。 No woman yet has dared to tell the story of
that unfolding。 She attracted men； and she encouraged them； and
watched them； and tested them； and dismissed them； and concealed the
substance of her thoughts about them in the way that seems
instinctive in a natural…minded girl。 There was even an engagement
amidst the protests and disapproval of the college authorities。 I
never saw the man； though she gave me a long history of the affair；
to which I listened with a forced and insincere sympathy。 She
struck me oddly as taking the relationship for a thing in itself；
and regardless of its consequences。 After a time she became silent
about him； and then threw him over； and by that time； I think； for
all that she was so much my junior； she knew more about herself and
me than I was to know for several years to come。
We didn't see each other for some months after my resignation； but
we kept up a frequent correspondence。 She said twice over that she
wanted to talk to me； that letters didn't convey what one wanted to
say； and I went up to Oxford pretty definitely to see herthough I
combined it with one or two other engagementssomewhere in
February。 Insensibly she had become important enough for me to make
journeys for her。
But we didn't see very much of one another on that occasion。 There
was something in the air between us that made a faint embarrassment；
the mere fact； perhaps； that she had asked me to come up。
A year before she would have dashed off with me quite unscrupulously
to talk alone； carried me off to her room for an hour with a minute
of chaperonage to satisfy the rules。 Now there was always some one
or other near us that it seemed impossible to exorcise。
We went for a walk on the Sunday afternoon with old Fortescue； K。
C。； who'd come up to see his two daughters； both great friends of
Isabel's； and some mute inglorious don whose name I forget； but who
was in a state of marked admiration for her。 The six of us played a
game of conversational entanglements throughout； and mostly I was
impressing the Fortescue girls with the want of mental concentration
possible in a rising politician。 We went down Carfex； I remember；
to Folly Bridge； and inspected the Barges； and then back by way of
Merton to the Botanic Gardens and Magdalen Bridge。 And in the
Botanic Gardens she got almost her only chance with me。
〃Last months at Oxford；〃 she said。
〃And then？〃 I asked。
〃I'm coming to London；〃 she said。
〃To write？〃
She was silent for a moment。 Then she said abruptly； with that
quick flush of hers and a sudden boldness in her eyes： 〃I'm going to
work with you。 Why shouldn't I？〃
3
Here； again； I suppose I had a fair warning of the drift of things。
I seem to remember myself in the train to Paddington； sitting with a
handful of papersgalley proofs for the BLUE WEEKLY； I supposeon
my lap； and thinking about her and that last sentence of hers； and
all that it might mean to me。
It is very hard to recall even the main outline of anything so
elusive as a meditation。 I know that the idea of working with her
gripped me； fascinated me。 That my value in her life seemed growing
filled me with pride and a kind of gratitude。 I was already in no
doubt that her value in my life was tremendous。 It made it none the
less； that in those days I was obsessed by the idea that she was
transitory； and bound to go out of my life again。 It is no good
trying to set too fine a face upon this complex business； there is
gold and clay and sunlight and savagery in every love story； and a
multitude of elvish elements peeped out beneath the fine rich
curtain of affection that masked our future。 I've never properly
weighed how immensely my vanity was gratified by her clear
preference for me。 Nor can I for a moment determine how much
deliberate intention I hide from myself in this affair。
Certainly I think some part of me must have been saying in the
train： 〃Leave go of her。 Get away from her。 End this now。〃 I
can't have been so stupid as not to have had that in my mind。 。 。 。
If she had been only a beautiful girl in love with me； I think I
could have managed the situation。 Once or twice since my marriage
and before Isabel became of any significance in my life； there had
been incidents with other people； flashes of temptationno telling
is possible of the thing resisted。 I think that mere beauty and
passion would not have taken me。 But between myself and Isabel
things were incurably complicated by the intellectual sympathy we
had； the jolly march of our minds together。 That has always
mattered enormously。 I should have wanted her company nearly as
badly if she had been some crippled old lady； we would have hunted
shoulder to shoulder； as two men。 Only two men would never have had
the patience and readiness for one another we two had。 I had never
for years met any one with whom I could be so carelessly sure of
understanding or to whom I could listen so easily and fully。 She
gave me； with an extraordinary completeness； that rare； precious
effect of always saying something fresh； and yet saying it so that
it filled into and folded about all the little recesses and corners
of my mind with an infinite； soft familiarity。 It is impossible to
explain that。 It is like trying to explain why her voice； her voice
heard speaking to any oneheard speaking in another roompleased
my ears。
She was the only Oxford woman who took a first that year。 She spent
the summer in Scotland and Yorkshire； writing to me continually of
all she now meant to do； and stirring my imagination。 She came to
London for the autumn session。 For a time she stayed with old Lady
Colbeck； but she fell out with her hostess when it became clear she
wanted to write； not novels； but journalism； and then she set every
one talking by taking a flat near Victoria and installing as her
sole protector an elderly German governess she had engaged through a
scholastic agency。 She began writing； not in that copious flood the
undisciplined young woman of gifts is apt to produce； but in exactly
the manner of an able young man； experimenting with forms；
developing the phrasing of opinions； taking a definite line。 She