Sabine laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound.
"Of men! That they are like children, desiring only the toys that are out of reach, wasting their souls upon what they cannot obtain and valuing not at all the gifts of the gods which are in their own possession."
"What a cynical view!"
"Is it not a true one?"
"Perhaps—in some cases—in mine certainly; only I have generally managed to obtain what I wanted."
"Then it may be a new experience for you to find there was one thing which was out of your reach."
He bent forward eagerly and asked, with a catch in his breath:
"The soul of a woman—shall we say—that something which no brute force can touch."
The fencing bout was over, the foils were laid aside, and grim earnest was in Michael's voice now—modulated by civilization into that tone which does not carry beyond one's neighbor at a dinner party.