w soon should we
hate the sight of each other, and the sound of each other's voices?"

"It might come to that," replied Cecily, with half a smile. "Perhaps."

"There's no doubt about it."

Cecily remembered something she had written in the book with the silver
lock--a book which had not been opened for a long time.

"I used to think nothing could bring that about. And I am not sure yet."

"I should behave like a ruffian. I know myself well enough."

"I think that would kill my love in time."

"Of course it would. How can any one love what is not lovable?"

"Yet we hear," suggested Cecily, "of wretched women remaining devoted
to husbands who all but murder them now and then."

"You are not so foolish as to call _that_ love! That is mere
unreasoning and degraded habit--the same kind of thing one may find in
a dog."

"Has love anything to do with reason, Reuben?"

"As I understand it, it has everything to do with reason. Animal
passion has not, of course; but love is made of that with something
added. Can my reason discover any argument why I should not love you? I
won't say that it might not, some day, and then my love would by so
much be diminished."

"You believe that reason is free to exercise itself, where love is in
possession?"

"I believe that love can only come when reason invites. Of course, we
are talking of love between men and women; the word has so many senses.
In this highest sense, it is one of the rarest of things. How many
wives and husbands love each other? Not one pair in five thousand. In
the average pair that have lived together as long as we have, there is
not only mutual criticism, but something even of mutual dislike. That
makes love impossible. Habit takes its place."

"Happily for the world."

"I don't know. Perhaps so. It is an ignoble necessity; but then, the
world largely consists of ignoble creatures."

Cecily reflected often on this conversation. Was there any significance
in such reasonings? It gave her keen pleasure to hear Reuben maintain
such a view, but did it mean anything? If, in meditating about him, she
discovered characteristics of his which she could have wished to
change, which in themselves were certainly not lovable, had she in that
moment ceased to love him, in love's highest sense?

But in that case love might be self-deception. In that case, perfect
love was impossible save as a result of perfect knowledge.

What part had reason in the impulses which po