"But, you see, although it is my misfortune to love you, I recognize that there is a long generation between us. I thought I had spanned it, but--do you realize that we have literally nothing to give each other but love? That we are as unlike----" "Oh, yes, I realized all that the night you left. But I don't care. Cannot you trust me?" "There is that long generation, Lee. And it is I who have lived it, not you. Lived it and outlived the woman who began it. The gods in a sportive mood made us for each other--and then sent me into the world too soon. . . . I must go on. It is not in me to go back nor to remain becalmed. Hohenhauer told me many cruel truths. Those women at my dinner might have enlightened me if I had not deliberately bandaged the eyes of my mind. I chose to forget them at once. But Hohenhauer----" She shuddered. "Well, although I was infuriated with him at the time--what he said was true. Every word. I must go forward. I cannot--cannot go back." "He appealed to your ambition, your love of power, I suppose----" "He showed me to myself for exactly what I am," she said emphatically. "No appeal would have made the slightest impression on me if I had really and finally returned to my Mary Ogdenhood up there in the woods of my real youth. My God! What incredible folly! What powers of self-delusion! But we both have that memory. Let us be grateful. I at least shall hold it apart from all memories as long as I live." "Are you going to marry that man?" "That is so purely incidental that it is not worth talking about. I came away to think out my own problem. I love you and I believe that I shall always love you--but I don't see any way out. I have killed once and for all that fatal talent for self-delusion that I had thought was as dead--well, as dead as my love for Moritz Hohenhauer; and nothing could be more dead than that. My brain feels like a crystal house illuminated by searchlights, strong enough to penetrate every corner but not strong enough to blind. I could never, if I would, deceive myself again, nor make another mistake, so far as human prescience will serve me." He looked at her hands. Her gloves were black suede and they made those hands look smaller, but he had an idea that if he lifted one it would fall of its own rigid weight. He made no comment and she said in a moment: "Perhaps you may have an inspiration. If there is any solution for us, believe me when I say that it would make me as happy as it could make you." But her hands did not relax. "What is the solution, Lee?" He had buried his face in his hands. "There is none, I suppose. Unless you have the courage to drive down to the City Hall and marry me . . . and"--he lifted his head with a faint gleam of hope--"remember that you are young again. You have many years to live. You are a woman. Can you go through life without love?"