"Man's love is of his life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence. Do you believe that?" "Well," he asserted, gravely, choosing his words with deliberation, "it might be so, but all depends upon the man and woman. Love," he added, with tremendous gravity, "is the greatest power in the universe." "I have never been in love," said Page. "Yes, love is a wonderful power." "I've never been in love, either." "Never, never been in love?" "Oh, I've thought I was in love," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I've never even thought I was," she answered, musing. "Do you believe in early marriages?" demanded Landry. "A man should never marry," she said, deliberately, "till he can give his wife a good home, and good clothes and--and that sort of thing. I do not think I shall ever marry." "You! Why, of course you will. Why not?" "No, no. It is my disposition. I am morose and taciturn. Laura says so." Landry protested with vehemence. "And," she went on, "I have long, brooding fits of melancholy." "Well, so have I," he threw out recklessly. "At night, sometimes--when I wake up. Then I'm all down in the mouth, and I say, 'What's the use, by jingo?'" "Do you believe in pessimism? I do. They say Carlyle was a terrible pessimist." "Well--talking about love. I understand that you can't believe in pessimism and love at the same time. Wouldn't you feel unhappy if you lost your faith in love?" "Oh, yes, terribly." There was a moment's silence, and then Landry remarked: "Now you are the kind of woman that would only love once, but love for that once mighty deep and strong." Page's eyes grew wide. She murmured: "'Tis a woman's whole existence--whole existence.' Yes, I think I am like that." "Do you think Enoch Arden did right in going away after he found them married?" "Oh, have you read that? Oh, isn't that a beautiful poem? Wasn't he noble? Wasn't he grand? Oh, yes, yes, he did right." "By George, I wouldn't have gone away. I'd have gone right into that house, and I would have made things hum. I'd have thrown the other fellow out, lock, stock, and barrel." "That's just like a man, so selfish, only thinking of himself. You don't know the meaning of love--great, true, unselfish love." "I know the meaning of what's mine. Think I'd give up the woman I loved to another man?" "Even if she loved the other man best?" "I'd have my girl first, and find out how she felt about the other man afterwards." "Oh, but think if you gave her up, how noble it would be. You would have sacrificed all that you held the dearest to an ideal. Oh, if I were in Enoch Arden's place, and my husband thought I was dead, and I knew he was happy with another woman, it would just be a joy to deny myself, sacrifice myself to spare him unhappiness. That would be my idea of love. Then I'd go into a convent." "Not much. I'd let the other fellow go to the convent. If I loved a woman, I wouldn't let anything in the world stop me from winning her."