Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?
She will have no other adventure like Amory, and if she reads this she will say: "And Amory will have no other adventure like me." Nor will she sigh, any more than he would sigh.
Eleanor tried to put it on paper once: "The fading things we only know We'll have forgotten...
Put away...
Desires that melted with the snow, And dreams begotten This to-day: The sudden dawns we laughed to greet, That all could see, that none could share, Will be but dawns...

and if we meet We shall not care.
Dear...

not one tear will rise for this...
A little while hence No regret Will stir for a remembered kiss-- Not even silence, When we've met, Will give old ghosts a waste to roam, Or stir the surface of the sea...
If gray shapes drift beneath the foam We shall not see." They quarrelled dangerously because Amory maintained that _sea_ and _see_ couldn't possibly be used as a rhyme.

And then Eleanor had part of another verse that she couldn't find a beginning for: "...

But wisdom passes...