"No, I can't imagine the bliss of that, Nina—."
She looked at me suddenly—.
"Well, why don't you marry then, dear boy?"
"I would, if I thought I could secure bliss—but you forget, it would be from pity and not love that a woman would be kind to me."
"I am—not quite sure of that, Nicholas"—and she looked at me searchingly—"You are changed since last time—you are not so bitter and sardonic—and you, always have that—oh! you know what Elinor Glyn writes of in her books—that "it."—Some kind of attraction that has no name—but I am sure has a lot to do with love—."
"So you think I have got 'it,' Nina?"
"Yes, your clothes fit so well—and you say rather whimsical things—Yes, decidedly, Nicholas, now that you are not so bitter—I am sure—."
"What a pity you did not find that out before you took Jim, Nina!"
"Oh! Jim! that is different—You have much more brain than Jim, and would not have been nearly so easy to live with!"
"Is it going well, Nina?"