“I am only sorry that I did not ask you to go with me. He kissed her deeply and hungrily. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. “Married already,” he said, with his mouth full. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. The blades on the top spun faster and faster.
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