unimportant; millions and billions of beings have preceded us,
billions will succeed us. So why should it be so important that a
woman should be true to her lover?"

"Does it really seem to you an utterly unimportant matter?"

"Not nearly so important as losing the woman one loves." And looking
into her face as he might into a book, written in a language only a
few words of which he understood, he continued: "And the idea seems
to have absorbed you, to have made its own of you; it isn't
religion, I don't think you are a religious woman. You usen't to be
like this when I took you away to Paris. You were in love with me,
but not half so much in love with me as you are now with this idea,
not so subjugated. Evelyn, that is what it is, you are subjugated,
enslaved, and you can think of nothing else."

"Well, if that is so, Owen--and I won't say you are utterly wrong--
why can't you accept things as they are?"

"But it isn't true, Evelyn? You will outlive this idea. You will be
cured."

"I hope not."

"You hope not? Well, if you don't wish to be cured it will be
difficult to cure you. But now, here in this house, where everything
is different, do you not feel the love of life coming back upon you?
And can you accept negation willingly as your fate?"

Evelyn asked Owen what he meant and he said: