It was the delight of the jealous who persist in scratching open the wound.
"I want to know you," he repeated.

"I ought to know you, since you belong to me.

I have the right!..." This right recalled with childish obstinacy made Freya smile dolorously.

Long centuries of experience appeared to peep out from the melancholy curl of her lips.

In her gleamed the wisdom of the woman, more cautious and foresighted than that of the man, since love was her only preoccupation.
"Why do you wish to know ?" she asked discouragingly.