The Foolish Virgin by Thomas Dixon
page 90 of 379 (23%)
page 90 of 379 (23%)
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knew by a deep inner sense that time could only fan the
flame that had been kindled into consuming fire that must melt every barrier between them. She had asked him nothing of himself, his business or his future, and knew nothing except what he had told her in the first impetuous rush of his confession of love. No matter. The big thing today was the fact of love and the new radiance with which it was beginning to light the world. The effect was stunning. Their conversation had been the simplest of commonplace questions and answers--and yet the day was the one miracle of her life--her happiness something unthinkable until realized. She had not asked time in order to know him better. She had only asked time to see herself more clearly in the new experience. Not for a moment did she raise the question of the worthiness of the man she loved. It was inconceivable that she should love a man not worthy of her. The only questions asked were soul-searching ones put to herself. Through the sweet, cool drive homeward, a hundred times she asked within: "Is this love?" And each time the answer came from the depths: |
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