"But shan't you then so much as miss her a little?
She's wonderful and beautiful, and I feel somehow as if she were dying.

Not really, not physically," Maggie went on--"she's so far, naturally, splendid as she is, from having done with life.

But dying for us--for you and me; and making us feel it by the very fact of there being so much of her left." The Prince smoked hard a minute.

"As you say, she's splendid, but there is--there always will be--much of her left.

Only, as you also say, for others." "And yet I think," the Princess returned, "that it isn't as if we had wholly done with her.