The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. ” “I like the mystical way,” she said. He paced faster, stomping around. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes.
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