"It is hard on you, though," she murmured one day, when they happened to be alone for a few moments. "Two invalids are more than one man's portion. And no one ever enjoyed the outdoor life as you do."
"This room is full of sunshine and fresh air, and I came up here to be with you. I don't know but what I am heartless enough to enjoy seeing such an imperious and insolently healthy person helpless for a time, and to be able to wait on her."
"I feel as if the entire order of the universe had been reversed."
"It will do you good. I hope you will have every variety of pleasure at least once in your life."
"You are laughing at me—but as I am a truthful person I will confide to you that I almost hate the idea of being well again."
"Of course you do. And as for the real invalids they enjoy themselves thoroughly. The great compensation law is blessed or cursed, whichever way you choose to look at it."
"I wonder if you had happened to be unmarried, what price we would have had to pay."
"God knows. The compensation law is the most immutable of all the fates."
"I have most of the gifts of life,—good looks, wealth, position, brains, and the power of making people like me. So I am not permitted to have the best of all. If I could, I wonder which of the others I'd lose. Probably we'd have an accident on our wedding journey, which would reduce my nerves to such a state that I'd be irritable for the rest of my life and lose my good looks and power to make you happy. It's a queer world."
He made no reply.