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356 any possibility, under any circumstances, you could fall in love with Silvia again?"

"Can a man be in love with two women at once? Could you be in love with two men, Nell?"

"I suppose not; only you loved her first, you know."

"And I love you now, you know."

Are you as fond of me as you ever were of her?"

"What do you think?"

"That you like me best."

"Well, I'm inclined to think the same. For one thing, I have a respect for you."

"That is a funny idea! I never heard of lovers doing that before."

"Nevertheless, it is 'the sweet marjoram of the salad,' the very salt of real love. The divine passion, as it is inaptly called, may burn brightly and hotly enough for a time, but it does not last unless it has something more substantial to go upon than sheer love and admiration."

"And did you respect Silvia?"

"Until I found her out."

I do not think I am jealous now of Paul's first love; I might be if she were here in her real flesh and blood beauty, but out of sight is very truly out of mind, and she is to me in my warm living, every-day happiness, no more than a half-forgotten shadow. Paul's thoughts are mine, and since he never thinks of her, neither do I. I have never repeated to him her wild words at Luttrell; somehow it has seemed to me needless and, in a certain sense, dishonourable—she has lost, I have won; would there not be a species of cowardice in holding her impotent boasts up to ridicule?

"I wonder what she would say if she knew about us," I say aloud.

"It would not interest her," says Paul, carelessly; "her own