"You understand? You've been in that state of mind or pretty near it, I
know."
"Yes, pretty near at times, but I'm not as honest as you. I may see all
you see, but I should always go on." She glanced at him. "I'm more like
my husband than I'm like you," she ended.
"I don't believe that," he said gravely.
"I know you don't, but it's true. I daresay you never will understand it,
because of the other May Gaston you've made for yourself. But it's true.
And you know what he is. He's ready to give body and soul--Oh, I'm not
just using a phrase--body and soul to keep the things that you've given
up for your hills. How scornful your hills made Constantine Blair!"
"Are you importing metaphorical meanings into my hills?" he asked,
sitting down near her.
"Yes," she answered. "Mr. Blair didn't, but I do."
"Perhaps it was rather a silly thing to say."
"No, I don't think so."
"I mean to Constantine."
"Oh, well then, perhaps it was," she admitted, smiling. "But that's all
consistent, isn't it? You couldn't trim your sails to suit the breeze
even in a letter like that.
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