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As yet we are mortal, and to live side by side with one another would be
dreadful, for somehow with you I cannot long be trivial, and, you know,
to be always beyond this mortal state would be to lose it. If people
marry, they must live together as affectionate humans, who may be
commonplace with each other without feeling awkward--not as two souls.
So I feel it.
"Ought I to send this letter?--I doubt it. But there--it is best to
understand. Au revoir."

Miriam read this letter twice, after which she sealed it up. A year
later she broke the seal to show her mother the letter.
"You are a nun--you are a nun." The words went into her heart again and
again. Nothing he ever had said had gone into her so deeply, fixedly,
like a mortal wound.
She answered him two days after the party.
"'Our intimacy would have been all-beautiful but for one little
mistake,'" she quoted. "Was the mistake mine?"
Almost immediately he replied to her from Nottingham, sending her at the
same time a little "Omar Khayyam.


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