“What is it?” asked Honora.
“This,” he answered, with a gesture; “when it is permanent.”
She smiled.
“And how is one to know whether it would be—permanent?”
“Through experience and failure,” he answered quickly, “we learn to distinguish the reality when it comes. It is unmistakable.”
“Suppose it comes too late?” she said, forgetting the ancient verse inscribed in her youthful diary: “Those who walk on ice will slide against their wills.”
“To admit that is to be a coward,” he declared.
“Such a philosophy may be fitting for a man,” she replied, “but for a woman—”
“We are no longer in the dark ages,” he interrupted. “Every one, man or woman, has the right to happiness. There is no reason why we should suffer all our lives for a mistake.”
“A mistake!” she echoed.