But I don’t suppose you can understand. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. I’ve got imagination. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely.
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