While I, I get but coals. They never touch,
Unless to burn or else to blacken me.”
XXII.
She spoke, then left abruptly. Strange it was,
With what abhorrence I would shrink from her
While speaking thus. Not selfish seem’d she all,
But so insensible; and these, our tastes,
These dainty despots of desire, our tastes
The worst of tyrants are; nor brook offense.
I wellnigh hated her. Yet minded thus,