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 rhyme, and we sink under the weight of unconfirmed truths."

"But salvation is possible," argued Grover. "For if you're honest with yourself you'll gradually come to recognize the true from the spurious, what to hold and what to reject, and from experience you will learn how to dominate your life, and thence, in some degree, life itself, and your surroundings and your would-be destroyers. Circumstances which were your rulers, you then use as your instruments."

Marthe gave him a smile, half tender, half bitter. "Yes, you can," she said, "because you are persistent, because you are strong enough to wait. Men can reclaim their bogs; women sink into them."

"But women have always leaned on a man's strength."

"The poor fools! Men, even the best of men, don't protect women; at most they protect their own rights in one woman. . . But one can't blame them. If a woman cries for help and the man stretches out his arm, she pulls him into her bog, sometimes without meaning to, sometimes deliberately. They're a heavy load."

"But what about the strong women who make great sacrifices for love?"

"They are strong as men are—selfishly. They make sacrifices because it's the only way to preserve the treasure in their heart. If they did not make the sacrifice the treasure would escape them, or lose its value.