He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. His face darkened. “Women would—they DO have far more power than they think, as influences, as inspirations. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain.
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