Page:Frank Owen - Woman Without Love (1949 reprint).djvu/112

 he is in all the stately idolatrous-looking churches and cathedrals that men have erected to him."

He took a cigar from his pocket and lighted it with deliberation.

"Tonight," he resumed presently, "I am in a philosophical mood."

"At that," interjected Madame, "it is not inapropos because in profile you resemble a Sphinx. It should not be odd if you possessed some of its wisdom."

Ivan paid no attention to the interruption as he went on speaking. His thought took a different track. Madame was surprised at the earnestness of his tone.

"Above all women you have aroused my interest. Had we met in the days of adolescence I should perhaps have gone through life worshipping you, desiring no other woman. Even now as I sit in your apartment, I feel more at home than I have ever felt in my life. Your personality is in every book, every picture, every chair, and it is a personality that is utterly charming. As I sit here it is all that I can do not to cry out pleadingly to the gods to give me my youth again. We've both lived fantastic lives. Always we've walked in the shoes of other people. We were born for each other, yet somehow we lost our way along the dark shadowy road. We trod the wrong trails. Poor blind fools, more helpless than lost sunsets. Fortunately ere our bodies crumbled back into dust, we met for a brief interlude. For myself it seemed as though I caught an echo of lost fragrance. I fear both our lives have been lived in vain. It makes me think of a poem by Hung. Long Tom which I recently read and which appealed to me so greatly, I committed it to memory.

Canton blue, her eyes, Her cheeks yellow roses And her lips rubies Softly matched. In the market-place She stands alone and smiles And smiling, makes the day more fair, Seller of love, banisher of care.