“I can’t argue with you,” she said, low.
“You’re the sort of woman that never loves but once,” said Joe. “If you were to let me go . . . !”
“Are you threatening to leave me?” she asked, with a bitter smile.
“Frankly, I can’t stand this,” said Joe. “I must either have you entirely, or I will leave you.”
Elaine was silent. Her eyes were hidden. Suddenly she rose, and going to one of the windows, stood, twisting the cord of the window shade between thumb and finger, and looking down on the squalid panorama of soiled, half-melted snow. The old Square looked exhausted and leprous with the patches of scant dead grass and naked earth showing amidst the snow. Finally she murmured:
“I am not sure that you love me!”
“What more do you want?” cried Joe. “You know your power over me. You have felt my heart beat against yours. You know that when I come near you, I am lost.”
“A power over your body,” she murmured without looking around.
“That’s the only thing I know,” said Joe coolly. “I don’t go in for soul states. You’ve read too many novels. For God’s sake let’s be natural with each other. What else is there but this blind hunger we have for each other. The big thing that comes only once!”
“And passes!”