"'Twould be the blind leading the blind--you and me together. The oak's more good to the ivy than anything soft like itself."
"Pity I haven't a bit of David's iron in me," he confessed.
"It is," she admitted. "A pity I haven't too."
"And a pity he haven't got a bit of my--"
She nodded strong assent.
"That's pity too," she said. "That's what I've wished many and many a time--just like a silly creature to wish what can't be. 'Tis worse than a child crying for the moon to want a man's nature changed."
"Yet half the people spend their time wanting the other half to change," he told her.
Again there was a pause and then he spoke.
"So long as it's well with you, I don't care."
"Well enough--if I could see it," she said.