"So you may safely behave as irrationally, irresponsibly, and romantically as you choose.... As long as I now am wide awake."
And then, for the first time, he realised his utter responsibility to this girl who so gaily and audaciously relieved him of it. And he understood how pitifully unarmed she really stood, and how imminent the necessity for him to forge for himself the armour of character, and to wear it eternally for his own safety as well as hers.
"Good night, dear," he said.
In her new and magnificent self-confidence she turned and put both arms around his neck, drawing his lips against hers.
But after he had gone she leaned against the closed door, less confident, her heart beating too fast and hard to entirely justify this new enfranchisement of the
body, or her overwhelming faith in its wise and trusted guardian, the mind.
And he went soberly on his way through the rain to his hotel, troubled but determined upon his new rôle as his own soul's armourer. All that was in him of romance and of chivalry was responding passionately to the girl's unconscious revelation of her new need.
For now he realised that her boasted armour was of gauze; he could see her naked heart beating behind it; he beheld, through the shield she lifted on high to protect them both, the moon shining with its false, reflected light.
Never did Athalie stand in such dire need of the armour she supposed that she was wearing.
And he must put on his own, rapidly, and rivet it fast—the inflexible mail of character which alone can shield such souls as his—and hers.