“You never found?”
“Perhaps ... almost. But, when I had found ... I was not allowed to put out my hand....”
“Because ... of the past?” she asked, softly.
“And of the present. Because of what is and has younger, fresher rights than mine ... which are no rights ... but the forbidden illusions of an old man....”
“Not old....”
“Older every day. He alone is in the prime of life ... who has found ... or thinks that he has found....”
“Yes, that is so,” she said; and her voice sounded like a wail. “I have begun to live too late. I could have lived ... even now ... perhaps; but it is all too late. I once told you ... that I was abdicating my youth....”
“Once, months ago....”
“Since then, I have thought, dreamt, lived too much ... not to feel young ... for a few moments.... But it was all an illusion ... and it is all too late....”
They looked at each other. He bowed his head, in gentle acquiescence, with his smile that was full of pain: