Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. I need only just jump up and throw myself upon you. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he gave it me.
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