“Ah, that’s an idle subject, isn’t it? By the way, you have a sneaking regard yourself for that bridal creature—you admire the woman, don’t you?”
“Admire her! Yes, as a woman, of course I do. Why, she is—superb! With that mature strong tenderness in every line of her, and that divine protecting patient air of hers—that woman might be a mother of nations.”
Strange started and his mouth twitched suddenly, the blood stopped in his veins and red and blue stars swam before his eyes. Gwen went on unheeding, in her passionless tones—
“That woman is not, however, me. I am a beautiful girl—that, and no more—I contain nothing, I assure you, nothing that could be moulded into that woman.”
“You contain everything,” said her husband slowly, “only the deuce of the matter is, that none of us know where to find it!”
“No, nor ever will.”
She leant forward so that her breath touched his cheek. “Humphrey, I wish you had never seen that picture! This necessity for idealization is an insult to me and to yourself—you should have had more insight from the beginning.”
“My good child,” he said laughing softly, “I thought the experiment was an avowed fact.”
She drew in her lips sharply, and was silent.
When she spoke again her voice was rather hoarse.