"Long before—before he or you or I were born."
"And does she understand?"
"She doesn't know—but what difference does that make?"
Her eyes, in the flickering light, gave him an impression of remoteness as of dim stars.
"I wonder how it feels to be loved like that?" she said, a little wistfully.
"You would never have cared for it," he answered, with a flash of his penetrating insight, "for the kind of man who could have loved you in that way you couldn't have loved."
"You mean that I was born to adore the god in the brute?" she asked.
"Oh, well, so long as it's the god!" he retorted laughing.
But she paid no heed to his remark, and drawing her coat about her as if she were cold, she sat in silence until the carriage was driven upon the ferry and they began the trip across.
"She came this way all alone and at night?" she said.