I said, "I have been a blatant egoist all the afternoon, Judith.
I didn't guess. Of course I understand."

"If you didn't, it would be impossible for us."

"Have no doubt," said I, softly, and I kissed her hand.

I came into her life when she counted it as over and done with
--at eight and twenty--and was patiently undergoing premature
interment in a small pension in Rome. How long her patience
would have lasted I cannot say. If circumstances had been
different, what would have happened? is the most futile of
speculations. What did happen was the drifting together of us
two bits of flotsam and our keeping together for the simple
reason that there were no forces urging us apart. She was past
all care for social sanctions, her sacred cap of good repute
having been flung over the windmills long before; and I,
friendless unit in a world of shadows, why should I have rejected
the one warm hand that was held out to me? As I said to her this
afternoon, Why should the _bon Dieu_ disapprove? I pay him the
compliment of presuming that he is a broad-minded deity.

When my fortune came, she remarked, "I am glad I am not free. If
I were, you would want to marry me, and that would be fatal."

The divine, sound sense of the dear woman! Honour would compel
the offer. Its acceptance would bring disaster.

Marriage has two aspects. The one, a social contract, a _quid_