‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Years ago, when you were a girl and in the bloom of your beauty, I loved you. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. "Yes, Auntie! And to date you have cost me precisely sixteen thousand dollars— hard earned, every one of them. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. He felt her observance and warmed to it.
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