“Is it so delicate as that?” she asked.
“It is the frailest thing in the world—and the strongest,” he answered, with his thoughtful smile. “It is a very delicate sort of—thought, which is given to two people to take care of. And they never seem to succeed in keeping it even passably intact—and not one couple in a million carry it through life unhurt. And the injuries never come from the outer world, but from themselves.”
“Where did you learn all that?” she asked, looking at him with her shrewd, smiling eyes.
“You taught me.”
“But you have a terribly high ideal.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you do not expect the impossible?”
“Quite.”
She shook her head doubtfully.
“Are you sure you will never have to compromise? All the world compromises.”