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It would not attract me
hence--out of my sphere. I could commit an immortal folly for no
woman who ever made this planet more lustrous to its
Bruderspharen.
I don't understand Judith. It doesn't very greatly matter. Many
things I don't understand, the spiritual attitude towards
himself, for example, of the intelligent juggler who expends his
life's energies in balancing a cue and three billiard-balls on
the tip of his nose. But I know that Judith understands me, and
therein lies the advantage I gain from our intimacy. She gauges,
to an absurdly subtle degree, the depth of my affection. She is
really an incomparable woman. So many insist upon predilection
masquerading as consuming passion. There is nothing theatrical
about Judith.
Yet to-day she appeared a little touchy, moody, unsettled. She
broke another pleasant spell of fireside silence, that followed
expiation of my offence, by suddenly calling my name.
"Yes?" said I, inquiringly.
"I want to tell you something. Please promise me you won't be
vexed.


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