They're not made of flesh and blood as
men are."
"They've had to drill their flesh and blood," she replied, stern rather
than scornful.
"I might have known you'd be hard, Molly."
When she spoke again her voice had softened.
"Jonathan, it's no use thinking of me--go back to Blossom," she said.
"Not thinking of you won't make me go back to Blossom. When that sort of
thing is over, it is over once for all."
"Even if that is true you mustn't think of me--because I belong--every
bit of me--to Abel."
He stared at her for a moment in silence. "Then it's true," he said at
last under his breath.
"It has always been true--ever since anything was true."
"But you didn't always know it."
"I had to grow to it. I believe I have been growing to it forever.
Everything has helped me to it--even my mistakes."
She spoke quite simply. Her earnestness was so large that it had swept
away her shyness and her self-consciousness, as a strong wind sweeps
away the smoke over the autumn meadows. And yet this very earnestness,
this passionate sincerity, added but another fold to the luminous evil
of mystery in which she was enveloped.
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