“He did not understand?”
“How could we expect he should understand? Would I? Do I?... if this all was not mine ...?”
“It is good, Fanny Luve. Go ahead.”
His face sudden is like a field under a sky of longing: a sun came down; his face glows in tender fear: it shadows to resolution.
“You must go North. We can’t understand. I can see, you are going right.”
“How can you see that, Leon?”
“No day since I left have you been far from me. You come into my thinking, my dreaming, into my sudden flying visions. You measure yourself always with them, with the best of them, Fanny. You measure full with them.”
“What you have said I could have said.”
His eyes came very near. They filled with tears of her. He looked away.
“But I am vague. O Leon, so blind!”