?... It was only a ... a flash in the
pan--as one might say.... Really, you know, it's true. That one can
fancy a woman for a bit like that, yet never dream of loving her as one
loves one's wife...."

"Morris...." said Sophy seriously. She leaned her chin on her hand, and
looked gravely at him.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

"What would you think of an American who had himself naturalised a
German, or a Russian, or a Spaniard ... yet declared that he really
loved America best of all!"

"I don't see...." stammered Loring.

"Yes, you do see," smiled Sophy. "And I want to take this opportunity of
assuring you that I'm not jealous of Belinda. Only--please don't try to
make your love for her a proof of your still greater love for me."

"Sophy...!"

"I'm not one of those people who cut up love into sections--vivisect it
... for it dies, I can tell you, when it's hacked to bits like that!...
This part ignoble--that part noble. Love is a whole--a whole--or it is
nothing. What you gave to Belinda you could not have given her if you'd
loved me really. I don't say _would_ not ... I say _could_ not...."

"But I swear to you...."

".... _Could_ not!" repeated Sophy inflexibly.

He had got to his feet again, and was looking at her with a disturbed,
baffled look.

"I _do_ love you, Sophy," he said at last. "Don't you believe I love
you?"

"In a way ... yes," said Sophy.

"What do you mean by 'in a way'?".

"Well--in a way that doesn't allow me to interfere with greater
pleasures."

He went crimson.

"Oh, I say!" he said. "How unkind ... how awfully hard and unkind of
you!"

"There mustn't be anything but truth in this talk between us, Morris.
I'm sorry to seem unkind. I only said what I feel and believe."

"God! I didn't know you could be so cruel...." he muttered, staring at
the fire.

"It isn't I that am cruel; it's the truth that's cruel," she said.

"You call that 'the truth'? ... God!" he said again.

"Then tell me...." she said. "What pleasure have you ever put second to
me?"

"What ... pleasure?" he stammered.

She looked at him steadily.

"Yes ... what pleasure?" she repeated.

"I.... I...."

He was frankly at a loss. She had such a queer, upsetting way of putting
things. He stood ruffled, resentful, aggrieved, helpless. Not a pleasure
could he think of that he had not put before her. His head buzzed with
the effort to recall some small sacrifice that he had made in her
behalf. She was spe