“But he must be suffering so!” exclaimed Corydon, who could not forget her love, even in the presence of his ribaldry.
“He needs to suffer,” Thyrsis replied. “He may meet some of the radicals over there, and come back with a new point of view.”
But Corydon shook her head. “You don’t know him,” she said. “He couldn’t possibly change. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.”
Thyrsis looked at her and saw that there were tears in her eyes. He put his hand upon hers. “We’ll have to worry through for a while longer, dear,” he said. “Never mind—we’ll manage to make out somehow!”
Section 16. They drove home; and all through supper they talked about this breathless event. Afterwards they sat in the twilight, upon the porch, and threshed it out in its every aspect.
“Corydon,” said he, “I don’t believe you really loved him as much as you thought. Did you?”
She stared before her without answering.
“Would you have loved him for long?” he persisted.
She pondered over this. “I don’t think one could love a man always,” she answered, “unless he had a mind.”
At which he pondered in turn. “Then it was too bad to drive him away!”