Wait till you get back your lost paradise; then take a wife who gives her heart only where her vanity permits.

You don't want _me_, and I--don't want you!" Her voice broke there.

With a cry that might have been her name or just an inarticulate call from his heart to hers, he caught her in his arms, and she was sobbing against his shoulder.

"You can't mean it, Madelene," he murmured, holding her tight and kissing her cheek, her hair, her ear.
"You don't mean it." "Oh, yes, I do," she sobbed.

"But--I love you, too." "Then everything else will straighten out of itself.