Ask yourself.
He. I don't follow.
She. You trust me so implicitly that when I look at another man
Never mind. Guy, have you ever made love to a girl a good girl?
He. Something of the sort. Centuries ago in the Dark Ages, before
I ever met you, dear.
She. Tell me what you said to her.
He. What does a man say to a girl? I've forgotten.
She. I remember. He tells her that he trusts her and worships the
ground she walks on, and that he'll love and honour and protect her
till her dying day; and so she marries in that belief. At least, I
speak of one girl who was not protected.
He. Well, and then?
She. And then, Guy, and then, that girl needs ten times the love
and trust and honour yes, honour that was enough when she was
only a mere wife if if the other life she chooses to lead is to be
made even bearable. Do you understand?
He. Even bearable! It'll be Paradise.
She. Ah! Can you give me all I've asked for not now, nor a few
months later, but when you begin to think of what you might have
done if you had kept your own appointment and your caste here
when you begin to look upon me as a drag and a burden? I shall
want it most then, Guy, for there will be no one in the wide world
but you.
He. You're a little over-tired to-night, Sweetheart, and you're
taking a stage view of the situation. After the necessary business in
the Courts, the road is clear to
She.
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