There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. ” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. . “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. .
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