"Everything. It's your way all through. You love me because what you see of me is changed. And yet all that time I was the same woman I am now. I am the same woman I was then."
"But I am not the same man!"
"The very same. You have not changed at all."
She meant that he was deficient in that spiritual imagination which was her special power; she meant that she had perceived the implicit baseness of his earlier attitude as a man to her as a woman, a woman who had had no power to touch his senses. It was, as she had said, the difference in their points of view; hers had condemned him forever to the sensual and the seen.
He stood ashamed before her.
Yet, as if she had divined his shame and measured the anguish of it and repented her, she laid her hand on his arm.
"Maurice, it isn't entirely so. I have been horribly unjust."
"Not you! You are justice incarnate. If I had loved you then——"
"You couldn't have loved me then."
"So you have just told me."