It was a clear, lovely, October morning. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. " The object of this discussion sat motionless. He did everything. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “I have to go out. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. works.
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