"True friend or lover loves that sense of the unplumbed, of the infinite, in the cared-for one.

To do else would be to deny the unplumbed, the infinite, in himself, and so the matching, the equaling, the _oneing_ of love!" She leaned forward in her chair; she regarded the small, fragrant garden where every sweet and olden flower seemed to bloom.

"Now let us leave Ian, and old, stanch, trusted, and trusting friendship.

It is part of oneness--it will be cared for!" She turned her bright, calm gaze upon him.

"What other realm have you come into, Alexander?
It was plain the last time that you were here, but I did not speak of it--it is plain to-day!" She laughed.