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But the comradeship she gives me is as food and drink, and my
affection fulfils a need in her nature. The delicate adjustment
of reciprocals is our sanction. Marriage, were it possible,
would indeed be fatal. Our pleasant, free relations, unruffled
by storm, are ideal for us both.
Why, I wonder, did she think her proposal to go away for a change
would vex me?
The idea implies a right of veto which is repugnant to me. Of
all the hateful attitudes towards a woman in which a decent man
can view himself that of the Turkish bashaw is the most
detestable. Women seldom give men credit for this distaste.

I kissed the white hand of Judith that touched my wrist, and told
her not to doubt my understanding. She cried a little.
"I don't make your path rougher, Judith?" I whispered.
She checked her tears and her eyes brightened wonderfully.
"You? You do nothing but smooth it and level it."
"Like a steam-roller," said I.
She laughed, sprang to her feet, and carried me off gaily to the
kitchen to help her get the tea ready.


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