`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.