“_I_ do!” William was emphatic. “I think love is the most sacred thing there is. I don't mean SOME kinds of love. I mean REAL love. You take some people, I don't believe they ever know what real love means. They TALK about it, maybe, but they don't understand it. Love is something nobody can understand unless they feel it and and if they don't understand it they don't feel it. Don't YOU think so?” “Ess.” “Love,” William continued, his voice lifting and thrilling to the great theme--“love is something nobody can ever have but one time in their lives, and if they don't have it then, why prob'ly they never will. Now, if a man REALLY loves a girl, why he'd do anything in the world she wanted him to. Don't YOU think so?” “Ess, 'deedums!” said the silvery voice. “But if he didn't, then he wouldn't,” said William vehemently. “But when a man really loves a girl he will. Now, you take a man like that and he can generally do just about anything the girl he loves wants him to. Say, f'rinstance, she wants him to love her even more than he does already--or almost anything like that--and supposin' she asks him to. Well, he would go ahead and do it. If they really loved each other he would!” He paused a moment, then in a lowered tone he said, “I think REAL love is sacred, don't you?” “Ess.” “Don't you think love is the most sacred thing there is--that is, if it's REAL love?” “Ess.” “_I_ do,” said William, warmly. “I--I'm glad you feel like that, because I think real love is the kind nobody could have but just once in their lives, but if it isn't REAL love, why--why most people never have it at all, because--” He paused, seeming to seek for the exact phrase which would express his meaning. “--Because the REAL love a man feels for a girl and a girl for a man, if they REALLY love each other, and, you look at a case like that, of course they would BOTH love each other, or it wouldn't be real love well, what _I_ say is, if it's REAL love, well, it's--it's sacred, because I think that kind of love is always sacred. Don't you think love is sacred if it's the real thing?” “Ess,” said Miss Pratt. “Do Flopit again. Be Flopit!” “Berp-werp! Berp-werp-werp.” And within the library an agonized man writhed and muttered: “WORD! WORD! WORD--” This hoarse repetition had become almost continuous.