It seemed hours before he could pull against the force holding him where he was and turn to Jean. She had followed him and was standing near, the teasing smile still in her eyes. For a moment they looked at each other and then Jean said:
"It will be glorious up there now, but—don't forget—the contest closes the first of October."
In his relief Gregory took Jean's hands and bent cavalierly over them.
"Your command, Fair Lady, is obeyed. I promise not to forget." He did not trust himself to kiss her again and went quickly.
Was there another woman in the world like Jean? The sanity of her love made everything possible. In its light even the month ahead did not loom so gloomily. There would be happy hours playing with Puck and good, stiff work to finish the plans in time.
Jean stood for a long time in the hall and then went slowly back and sat down by the window. Something had struck her violently and stunned her power to feel. She saw it as distinctly outside herself, and at the same time it was in some way connected with her. It was like a part of her which Gregory's words had suddenly cut away.
There they lay separated from her, the deep peace and security of the summer, the assurance of her own sensations, that wonderful clarity in which she had seen their love and perfect understanding. And there had been no understanding at all. The world that they both ignored, because it was not a real world, was a real world to him. It was not only real to him, but he must believe that it was so to her. Otherwise he would have told her before.
Jean looked stupidly about the room. Last night she had come back from Pat's and found Martha reading by the table. This morning, at breakfast, Pat had telephoned, and she had helped pack Martha's few things and taken her to the Tube. After that she had rung up Gregory and they had stolen the afternoon together. It was only a few hours ago that they had come in, the first time Gregory had ever been here.
It was all exactly like a game she had played when she was a child. It had been a game of much elaborate preparation. It had required the most violent upheavals of the doll's house, terrific cleaning and washing of everything. Martha always made special cookies and Jean was given ten cents for lemons and candy. Early in the morning of the day itself, Jean began telephoning along the clothes-line to imaginary guests. But no guests ever came to the party, because no children lived near, and in the end Jean had always had her party alone.
At dawn, weary with the endless round, Jean went to bed.