`I don't know.'

`I suppose you're afraid,' she said.

`I'm not. Something in me shrinks from her like hell--she's so good, when I'm not good.'

`How do you know what she is?'

`I do! I know she wants a sort of soul union.'

`But how do you know what she wants?'

`I've been with her for seven years.'

`And you haven't found out the very first thing about her.'

`What's that?'

`That she doesn't want any of your soul communion. That's your own imagination. She wants you.'

He pondered over this. Perhaps he was wrong.

`But she seems--' he began.

`You've never tried,' she answered.