'And do you think it's important，a man and a woman？'she asked him.
'For me it is.For me it's the core of my life：if I have a right relation with a woman.'
'And if you didn't get it？'
'Then I'd have to do without.'
Again she pondered，before she asked：
'And do you think you've always been right with women？'
'God，no！I let my wife get to what she was：my fault a good deal.Ispoilt her.And I'm very mistrustful.You'll have to expect it.It takes a lot to make me trust anybody，inwardly.So perhaps I'm a fraud too.Imistrust.And tenderness is not to be mistaken.'
She looked at him.
'You don't mistrust with your body，when your blood comes up，'she said.
'You don't mistrust then，do you？'
'No，alas！That's how I've got into all the trouble.And that's why my mind mistrusts so thoroughly.'
'Let your mind mistrust.What does it matter！'
The dog sighed with discomfort on the mat.The ash-clogged fire sank.
'We are a couple of battered warriors，'said Connie.
'Are you battered too？'he laughed.'And here we are returning to the fray！'
'Yes！I feel really frightened.'
'Ay！'
He got up，and put her shoes to dry，and wiped his own and set them near the fire.In the morning he would grease them.He poked the ash of pasteboard as much as possible out of the fire.'Even burnt，it's filthy，'
he said.Then he brought sticks and put them on the hob for the morning.
Then he went out awhile with the dog.
When he came back，Connie said：
'I want to go out too，for a minute.'
She went alone into the darkness.There were stars overhead.She could smell flowers on the night air.And she could feel her wet shoes getting wetter again.But she felt like going away，right away from him and everybody.
It was chilly.She shuddered，and returned to the house.He was sitting in front of the low fire.
'Ugh！Cold！'she shuddered.
He put the sticks on the fire，and fetched more，till they had a good crackling chimneyful of blaze.The rippling running yellow flame made them both happy，warmed their faces and their souls.
'Never mind！'she said，taking his hand as he sat silent and remote.
'One does one's best.'
'Ay！'He sighed，with a twist of a smile.
She slipped over to him，and into his arms，as he sat there before the fire.
'Forget then！'she whispered.'Forget！'
He held her close，in the running warmth of the fire.The flame itself was like a forgetting.And her soft，warm，ripe weight！Slowly his blood turned，and began to ebb back into strength and reckless vigour again.
'And perhaps the women really wanted to be there and love you properly，only perhaps they couldn't.Perhaps it wasn't all their fault，'
she said.
'I know it.Do you think I don't know what a broken-backed snake that's been trodden on I was myself！'
She clung to him suddenly.She had not wanted to start all this again.
Yet some perversity had made her.
'But you're not now，'she said.'You're not that now：a broken-backed snake that's been trodden on.'
'I don't know what I am.There's black days ahead.'
'No！'she protested，clinging to him.'Why？Why？'
'There's black days coming for us all and for everybody，'he repeated with a prophetic gloom.
'No！You're not to say it！'
He was silent.But she could feel the black void of despair inside him.
That was the death of all desire，the death of all love：this despair that was like the dark cave inside the men，in which their spirit was lost.
'And you talk so coldly about sex，'she said.'You talk as if you had only wanted your own pleasure and satisfaction.'
She was protesting nervously against him.
'Nay！'he said.'I wanted to have my pleasure and satisfaction of a woman，and I never got it：because I could never get my pleasure and satisfaction of her unless she got hers of me at the same time.And it never happened.It takes two.'
'But you never believed in your women.You don't even believe really in me，'she said.
'I don't know what believing in a woman means.'
'That's it，you see！'
She still was curled on his lap.But his spirit was grey and absent，he was not there for her.And everything she said drove him further.
'But what do you believe in？'she insisted.
'I don't know.'
'Nothing，like all the men I've ever known，'she said.
They were both silent.Then he roused himself and said：
'Yes，I do believe in something.I believe in being warmhearted.I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love，in fucking with a warm heart.
I believe if men could fuck with warm hearts，and the women take it warm-heartedly，everything would come all right.It's all this cold-hearted fucking that is death and idiocy.'
'But you don't fuck me cold-heartedly，'she protested.
'I don't want to fuck you at all.My heart's as cold as cold potatoes just now.'
'Oh！'she said，kissing him mockingly.'Let's have them sautées .'
He laughed，and sat erect.
'It's a fact！'he said.'Anything for a bit of warm-heartedness.But the women don't like it.Even you don't really like it.You like good，sharp，piercing cold-hearted fucking，and then pretending it's all sugar.
Where's your tenderness for me？You're as suspicious of me as a cat is of a dog.I tell you it takes two even to be tender and warm-hearted.You love fucking all right：but you want it to be called something grand and mysterious，just to flatter your own self-importance.Your own self-importance is more to you，fifty times more，than any man，or being together with a man.'
'But that's what I'd say of you.Your own self-importance is everything to you.'
'Ay！Very well then！'he said，moving as if he wanted to rise.'Let's keep apart then.I'd rather die than do any more cold-hearted fucking.'
She slid away from him，and he stood up.
'And do you think I want it？'she said.
'I hope you don't，'he replied.'But anyhow，you go to bed an'I'll sleep down here.'
She looked at him.He was pale，his brows were sullen，he was as distant in recoil as the cold pole.Men were all alike.
'I can't go home till morning，'she said.
'No！Go to bed.It's a quarter to one.'
'I certainly won't，'she said.
He went across and picked up his boots.
'Then I'll go out！'he said.