Perhaps I had better not say much to her, but simply select some
modern books for her to read. Let her gradually come to the
conviction that to acknowledge and respect passion as the supreme
reality, is to be modern--not to be ashamed of it, not to glorify
restraint. If she finds shelter in some such word as "modern",
she will find strength.

Be that as it may, I must see this out to the end of the Fifth
Act. I cannot, unfortunately, boast of being merely a spectator,
seated in the royal box, applauding now and again. There is a
wrench at my heart, a pang in every nerve. When I have put out
the light and am in my bed, little touches, little glances,
little words flit about and fill the darkness. When I get up in
the morning, I thrill with lively anticipations, my blood seems
to course through me to the strains of music ...

There was a double photo-frame on the table with Bee's photograph
by the side of Nikhil's. I had taken out hers. Yesterday I
showed Bee the empty side and said: "Theft becomes necessary only
because of miserliness, so its sin must be divided between the
miser and the thief. Do you not think so?"

"It was not a good one," observed Bee simply, with a little
smile.

"What is to be done?" said I. "A portrait cannot be better than
a portrait. I must be content with it, such as it is."

Bee took up a book and began to turn over the pages. "If you are
annoyed," I went on, "I must make a shift to fill up the