“I am different—different from you, I suppose. I don’t let shadows make me sad.”
“No; you are never jealous,” he said bitterly. “In fact, I wonder if you are capable of such an emotion.”
She appeared to consider this question.
“I suppose not,” she said, at length.
“What!” he exclaimed. “Not even—not even if you saw another woman coming into my life—really?”
“If that happened, I should go away—quietly,” she said thoughtfully.
“And you would not suffer?”
“Oh, yes—of course—I should suffer, but I should disappear just the same, for the world would be empty to me.” She looked at him a moment, hesitated, and said: “That would be something real, not something that is ended or something that might happen. You see, it’s this. You have something in you that I haven’t got.”
“What?”