“Have you ever been in love, Mr. Vaness?”
“I am in love now.”
“And your love has no element of devotion, no finer side?”
“None. It wants.”
“I have never been in love. But, if I were, I think I should want to lose myself rather than to gain the other.”
“Would you? Sabine, I am in love with you.”
“Oh! Shall we walk on?”
I heard their footsteps and was alone again, with the old gardener lopping at his shrubs.
But what a perfect declaration of hedonism; how simple and how solid was this Vaness theory of existence! Almost Assyrian—worthy of Louis Quinze!
And just then the old negro came up.