He gave a laugh, she turned and looked at him with a sudden sharpening of expression, something very like hatred, then as quickly looked away again. As if deliberately to pay no attention to her meaning he clicked the magazine into the grip, drew back the barrel, raised the pistol once more, lowered it, and fired. Another dandelion leapt in air and vanished, the bullet, ricocheting, whined away to the left, the hum of it lost in the swift sound of tearing which screeched in a circle round the woods; and then the five other shots, which followed in quick succession, doubled and redoubled the confused clamor. Only one dandelion was left, the echoes repeated ee yah, ee yah, ee yah, diminuendo, wingbeat on remoter wingbeat, a sullen dying of applause, and everything was again silent. He looked down at the empty shells, scattered about his feet, and said:
— Sandbach, for instance.… Ten out of twelve, not so bad.
She had stooped forward, had picked a single grass blade, was examining it, turning it between her fingers.
— And now would you mind telling me what it’s all about?
— I said Sandbach.
— Sandbach was understood, wasn’t he?
— It’s an accomplished fact, then?
— If you don’t mind, Jasper, I’d prefer not to discuss that part of it. You see—
— I see. I foresaw! I even foresaw that with it would go this withdrawal. And of course that he would say to you that you must drop me. But it’s too late. You can’t. You’re here.
— Yes, I’m here, but I think I must tell you—
— I think I’d better tell you.
— My dear Jasper, I wish you would! If it’s not too late. I mean, if that part of it isn’t too late. I can’t go on with it — I won’t any longer have any responsibility — much as I love you — can’t you see that the whole thing was a sort of hallucination? Couldn’t we still make something much better of it? S means nothing, not a thing—
She had put the grass blade between her lips, was looking downward, tears had brightened her eyes. But her voice had remained as admirably level as always.
— What is it exactly that you’d like to know?
— I want to know what it’s all about.
— We had that out. I haven’t changed.
— Could you tell me about it?
— My dear Gerta, you’re like an open book!
He laughed again, looking down at her tightly clasped hands, and went on:
— Well, I’ll say this much, that if he isn’t perfect he’s at any rate very good!
— Sandbach?
Her expression of bewilderment might or might not be ingenuous.
— No. We’ll call him X, shall we? It’s not Kazis. Would you like to know his real name?
— No.
— It’s Jones. The ideal name, and almost the ideal person. Good God, I didn’t know such people existed! A real and complete nonentity. Lives in a two-family house, takes out his own ashes, wears rubbers on rainy days, rides on a streetcar every day of his life.
— I see. And that’s enough, is it?
— Of course. Not that it’s enough to know. It’s curious how interesting it has become to know about him, to learn about him — and I’ve learnt a lot. Would you like to hear some of it? He reads The Herald, uses toothpicks, wears brown shoes with a blue suit, drinks a pint of whisky everyday at his office. I suppose he has nothing better to do. He’s in the advertising business, has a business, so-called, of his own. Reads textbooks on advertising in the subway. Yesterday it was a Manual of Typographical Standards published by The New York Times. Mezzographs, Line Cuts, Half-Tones, and Ross Boards — I’ve been studying it myself.…
— You are insane.
— Are we?
— Do you know S wants to report you?
— Oh, he does, does he!
— Yes.
He picked up the red-covered box of cartridges from the grass, put it in his pocket, took out his pipe; and as he did so a cloud went softly over the sun, the scene darkened. Everything looked smaller and nearer, Gerta seemed shrunken, he suddenly had a strange feeling of loneliness. This had happened before — it had happened only this morning in Harvard Square, when the sight of so many people, all rushing towards the subway, had given him a queer and unmistakable sensation of panic, of which the essential was solitude. This had been quite recognizable, was recognizable now, but had it any real significance? Yes, they all wanted to kill him, everybody really wanted to kill every one else, to be immersed in a crowd was to be immersed in a world of enemies. To face another individual was to face an enemy, even to face Gerta, who, under his own guidance, was in the very act of escaping from beneath his control. The eyes with which she looked up at him were Sandbach’s eyes, the words she used were now Sandbach’s, Sandbach had possessed her, still possessed her, it was to Sandbach he was speaking.
— I see. It is really Sandbach I am now talking to.
— Jasper, my dear, won’t you sit down and discuss it calmly?
— Yes. Let’s talk about it, for the last time, calmly!
He stretched himself, lazily, full length, on the grass, his hands under his chin: at once she came and sat beside him, crossing her knees: it was her intention to encroach. Leaning forward, and looking at him earnestly, she said:
— Now tell me, my dear. Do you mean to go on with it?
Not meeting her gaze, though he was aware of it, he answered shortly:
— The novel? King Coffin? Certainly.
— You know I don’t mean that.
— I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.… By the way, I liked your new picture very much. What do you call it?
— Jasper!
— You have a really extraordinary imagination. It’s good — though I’m bound to say I don’t know what it means.
— I see. You won’t discuss it. I ought to have expected it, I suppose! I do what you ask, I accept Sandbach at your dictation, and this is what I get for my pains! It’s really funny!
She started to laugh, stopped abruptly, he watched her hands, in the grass, clutch savagely at the blades, and let them go again. He could hear her breathing rather quickly, turned his head sideways to look up at her with amused eyes, saw that she was staring sightlessly into the distance, the somber mouth relaxed, the whole expression desperate and unhappy.
— You can’t say I didn’t warn you. I warned you specifically. I pointed out precisely this danger — that you would shift your loyalty to Sandbach. Well, it’s come. What we were going to share — that new thing which we then both saw so clearly, dislocation number X — has come to an end because you failed me. You weren’t good enough!
As she said nothing, he added:
— Isn’t that it?
— Of course. You were quite safe, weren’t you, either way! Simply because you didn’t care. You care for no one but yourself. And surely that must begin to disappoint you!
— Oh, I miscalculate, like every one else. But I still have my amusements!
— Jones, for instance?
— Of course. A very harmless and pure entertainment. Like this target practice.
— Your notion of purity!
— And it’s beginning to be rather exciting! I’ve sent him some theater tickets — a whole box at the Orpheum — marked them complimentary, you know—
— Why?
— Oh, just for fun! I thought it would be nice to see him close-to for a whole evening — also to see what he brings with him — his wife, I suppose!