He did not tell her that that eleven-years-distant fortnight was to him but a half-remembered incident of a crowded life, and that to all intents and purposes she herself had been forgotten.

For one thing, it would have hurt her; for another, he saw no reason why he should tell her.

Upon occasion he could be as ruthless as a stone; if he were so now he knew it not, but in deceiving her deceived himself.

Man of a world that was corrupt enough, he was of course quietly assured that he could bend this woodland creature--half child, half dryad--to the form of his bidding.

To do so was in his power, but not his pleasure.