She smiled at me, and I said: 

“Aye; but to what end?”

“To what end, Euan?  Why, for our spiritual and worldly profit.”

“Yes, but I love you——­”

“No, no!  Not in that manner——­”

“But it is so.”

“No, it is not!  We are to be above mere sentiment.  Reason rules us.”

“Are we not to wed?”

“Oh—­ as for that——­” She thought for a while, closely considering my palm.  “Yes—­ that might some day be a part of it....  When we have attained to every honour and consideration, and our thoughts and desires are purged and lifted to serene and lofty heights of contemplation.  Then it would be natural for us to marry, I suppose.”

“Meanwhile,” said I, “youth flies; and I may not lay a finger on you to caress you.”

“Not to caress me—­ as that woman did to you——­”

“Lois!”

“I can not help it.  There is in her—­ in all such women—­ a sly, smooth, sleek and graceful beast, ever seeming to invite or offer a caress——­”

“She is sweet and womanly; a warm friend of many years.”

“Oh!  And am I not—­ womanly?”

“Are you, entirely?”

She looked at me troubled: 

“How would you have me be more womanly?”

“Be less a comrade, more a sweetheart.”

“Familiar?”

My heart was beating fast: 

“Familiar to my arms.  I love you.”

“I—­ do not permit myself to desire your arms.  Can I help saying so—­ if you ask me?”

“When I love you so——­”

“No.  Why are you, after all, like other men, when I once hoped——­”

“Other men love.  All men love.  How can I be different——­”

“You are more finely made.  You comprehend higher thoughts.  You can command your lesser passions.”

“You say that very lightly, who have no need to command yours!”

“How do you know?” she said in a low voice.

“Because you have none to curb—­ else you could better understand the greater ones.”

She sat with head lowered, playing with a blade of grass.  After a while she looked up at me, a trifle confused.

“Until I knew you, I entertained but one living passion—­ to find my mother and hold her in my arms—­ and have of her all that I had ached for through many empty and loveless years.  Since I have known you that desire has never changed.  She is my living passion, and my need.”

She bent her head again and sat playing with the scented grasses.  Then, half to herself, she said: 

“I think I am still loyal to her if I have placed you beside her in my heart.  For I have not yet invested you with a passion less innocent than that which burns for her.”

She lifted her head slowly, propping herself up on one arm, and looked intently at me.

“What do you know about me, that you say I am unwomanly and cold?” Her voice was low, but the words rang a little.