So they regarded one another mistrustfully, like two creatures taken in a snare. They both felt as if they had been trapped by something vast and intangible. Reddin was dazed. For the first time in his life he had felt passion instead of mere lust. The same ideas that had striven within him on his way here uplifted their voices again.
Staring dully at Hazel, he felt a smarting at the back of his eyes and a choking in his throat.
'What ails you, catching your breath?' she asked.
He could not speak.
'You've got tears in your eyne.'
Reddin put his hand up.
'Tell us what ails you?'
He shook his head.
'What for not, my—what for not?'
She never called Reddin 'my soul.'