"It ought to bubble," she answered quietly.
He lifted up the lid of the silver bowl and peeped in.
"It is bubbling."
For a moment he was busy pouring the water into the teapot. While he did
this there was a silence between them. Lady Holme got up from the sofa
and walked about the room. When she came to the "/Danseuse de Tunisie/"
she stopped in front of it.
"How strange that fan is," she said.
Robin shut the lid of the teapot and came over to her.
"Do you like it?"
"The fan?"
"The whole thing?"
"It's lovely, but I fancy it would have been lovelier without the fan."
"Why?"
She considered, holding her head slightly on one side and half closing
her eyes.
"The woman's of eternity, but the fan's of a day," she said presently.
"It belittles her, I think. It makes her /chic/ when she might have
been--"
She stopped.
"Throw away your fan!" he said in a low, eager voice.
"I?"
"Yes. Be the woman, the eternal woman. You've never been her yet, but you
could be. Now is the moment. You're unhappy."
"No," she said sharply.
"Yes, you are. Viola, don't imagine I can't understand. You care for him
and he's hurting you--hurting you by being just himself, all he can ever
be. It's the fan he cares for."
"And you tell me to throw it away!"
She spoke with sudden passion. They stood still for a moment in front of
the statuette, looking at each other silently. Then Robin said, with a
sort of bitter surprise:
"But you can't love him like that!"
"I do.
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