260 “Can you turn me into one?” “Yes, I can turn you into one tonight. ” “It is over for now,” he answered, “but I cannot bear to think that you are subject to this sort of thing. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. “You have the temperament,” he said. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. ” “We should go back. Her head swam. You are not unlike Pandora. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. E.
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