Since then I have been dead to time--and the world." "You do not suggest that you are in heaven ?" she asked, ironically.
"Nothing so extreme as that.

All extremes are violent." "Ah, the middle place--then you are in purgatory ?" "But what should you be doing in purgatory?
Or have you only come with a drop of water to cool the tongue of Dives ?" His voice trailed along so coolly that it incensed her further.
"Certainly Dives' tongue is blistering," she said with great effort to still the raging tumult within her.

"Yet I would not cool it if I could." Suddenly the anger seemed to die out of her, and she looked at him as she did in the days before Rudyard Byng came across her path--eagerly, childishly, eloquently, inquiringly.

He was the one man who satisfied the intellectual and temperamental side of her; and he had taught her more than any one else in the world.

She realized that she had "Tossed him violently like a ball into a far country," and that she had not now a vestige of power over him--either of his senses or his mind; that he was master of the situation.