All her life long she confuses the gift with the giver, and loving with
the pride of being loved, because her love is responsive rather than
original.

[Sidenote: The Forgotten Harp]

She demands that the lover's devotion shall continue after marriage;
that every look shall be tender and every word adoring. Failing this,
she knows that love is dead. She is inevitably disappointed in marriage,
because she is no longer his fear, intoxication, and pain, but rather
his comrade and friend. The vibrant strings, struck from silence and
dreams to a sounding chord, are trembling still--whispering lingering
music to him who has forgotten the harp.

When a woman once tells a man she loves him, he regards it as some
chemical process which has taken place in her heart and he never
considers the possibility of change. He is little concerned as to its
expression, for he knows it is there. On the contrary, it is only by
expression that a woman ever feels certain of a man's love.

Doubt is the essential and constant quality of her nature, when once she
loves. She continually demands new proof and new devotion, consoling
herself sometimes with the thought that three days ago he said he loved
her and there has been no discord since.

As for him, if his comfort is assured, he never thinks to question her,
for men are as blind as Love. If she seems glad to see him and is not
distinctly unpleasant, she may even be a little preoccupied without
arousing suspicion. A man likes to feel that he is loved and a woman