"But essentially it's the same thing," I went on. "Granite, too,
is insensible."
I watched her profile against the pillow and there came on her face
an expression I knew well when with an indignation full of
suppressed laughter she used to throw at me the word "Imbecile." I
expected it to come, but it didn't come. I must say, though, that
I was swimmy in my head and now and then had a noise as of the sea
in my ears, so I might not have heard it. The woman of granite,
built to last for ever, continued to look at the glowing logs which
made a sort of fiery ruin on the white pile of ashes. "I will tell
you how it is," I said. "When I have you before my eyes there is
such a projection of my whole being towards you that I fail to see
you distinctly. It was like that from the beginning. I may say
that I never saw you distinctly till after we had parted and I
thought you had gone from my sight for ever. It was then that you
took body in my imagination and that my mind seized on a definite
form of you for all its adorations--for its profanations, too.
Don't imagine me grovelling in spiritual abasement before a mere
image. I got a grip on you that nothing can shake now."
"Don't speak like this," she said.
Pages:
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406