you delude yourself. … You are just as other women are, capable of infinite self-devotion and sacrifice. Hear me still. If I were now to love you no longer, to go away from you and forget you (men forget so very readily), you would be longing for me, and in anguish, like any other woman in the same situation, and in spite of all your 'positive' theories; you would be miserable, as you were during the last two weeks when we were parted; and you would again write first to me. And should I not come in answer to it—as I had a great mind not to come, nothwithstanding my 'idealistic' way of looking at love—why then, you would write again and again, even to the tenth time! Don't say you would not; I know you well. Oh, how well I know women! I'll tell you what: I am still more certain that you love me and wiil be faithful than I was in Martha's case, for all you say about paying me in my own coin, if I were false. Martha could forget herself for my sake; you never could. A bundle of theories, of sentimental scepticism, of self-assurance: that's what you are! A poor frightened bird always popping its head under its wing!"
I felt quite broken. There was an immense
