Page:The Wings of the Dove (New York, Charles Scribners Sons, 1902), Volume 2.djvu/263

 never, he then knew, tasted, in all his relation with her, of anything so sharp—too sharp for mere sweetness—as the vividness with which he saw himself master in the conflict. "Well, I understand."

"On your honour?"

"On my honour."

"You'll come?"

"I'll come." 253