Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/82

 ening again before they blaze. Then I try to make out how your mouth looks without me— but I never see your mouth. Do you think I should love you as much if you shaved? Let me believe that I should love you more! Then your voice—but somehow your voice escapes me; and with it a part of you escapes me, too. I am a little confused when it comes to your voice. I only seem to get it reading 'Rufus Choate' to Father. Dear Father! I know you are good to him, for he has the most unreasonable habit of missing me; it is quite confirmed, and that is why I make so few trips. Thanks to him, I never can be called a visiting young lady.

"But he took a notion about my coming to Senator Gray's. He said I looked—I think it was 'transparent'—some preposterous word. I suppose it comes of my feeling strange and changed—exhilarated all the time. Yet that seems too low a word. Call it exalted, rather. There's been a good deal written by poets and other uncomfortable people that I begin to understand, while yet I know that I do not comprehend it. Now, the way they have of classifying Love (with a capital, please observe, sir) as if it were to be found at a first-class vintner's—that perplexes me; for me it does not intoxicate.