O I do so agree with you in Faith being the thing! But Henry (my dear) I can't I can't I can't and I won't (even if it is the old devil himself in me!) I can't agree with you about 'Love'. No no no no no no no no no no I am sick of love. It has been tried and it has failed. Jesus & Love have had their day.

So potent however is the concentrated love of the feminine heart, that although this man, sitting there above her, had just beheld—actually in the flesh—that elusive Mystery which was the cause of Glastonbury's being Glastonbury, it was the girl and not the man who dominated that moment, her exultation, and not his, that held the thunder-flash of that charged air.

And yet he did genuinely love Cordelia. Not with any kind of physical love. That was impossible. But with a feeling of pity that shook the foundations of his nature.

Suddenly, with a cynical frankness, he began comparing his feelings for these two girls. ‘The truth is,’ he said to himself, ‘I love them both! I love Gerda because she’s so simple, and because I’ve slept with her all these months ; and I love Christie because she’s so subtle, and because I’ve never slept with her!