Oh, if love might only come to
me like that."
"Like what?"
"Heaven-sent--never a doubt, never a speculation; just knowing and
believing--souls stripped bare of all pretence."
How splendid she was--how beautiful! He bent down to her. "Why
shouldn't it come to you?"
"Men don't love me that way. They admire and respect and then love.
But Jean? She's a moon maiden, luring them to--madness." She smiled
up at him.
"Captain Hewes says you are the supreme type--the perfect American."
"Yes, but he thinks of me as a type. Some day perhaps he will think of
me as a woman."
She brought the conversation back to Jean. "You need not let the
thought of her loneliness trouble you."
"You think then that I am going to lose her?"
"You have lost her already."
Sparks burned in the Doctor's eyes. "I don't believe it. She has
known him a few days--and I've given her my whole life."
"'Forsaking all others,'" murmured Drusilla.
"Yet she loves me."
"It isn't that she loves you less--she loves him more."
"Don't," he lifted his hand. "I am not sure that I can stand it."
"It makes your way clear.
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