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 for the man who has not some dear woman to adore.”

“And what of the poor woman who has no man?”

“Oh, but a woman can always find some- body.”

“Can she? That’s all you know about it. Do you never give a thought to the lonely, loveless woman—the woman who has all the strength and inclination to love wildly, fiercely, happily, yet who through force of circum- stance is constrained to hide her unsatisfied yearning until it jars and wrings and tears her breast? If you have any pity, Perseus, spare it for the loveless woman.”

“Andromeda,” he said, “I am a fool, but I shall learn wisdom through you.”

“You are a man, and men take so many things for granted. Women, on the other hand, live in a world of dreams, and unless love comes to them they perish. Why, of all crea- tures beneath the sun there is not one with the capacity to love like a woman. Her thoughts are your thoughts, her passions your passions. In her veins the blood runs as fiercely as in your own. ‘Think what women do for love,