And in a reverent and grateful loyalty Michael would have laid down his life for her, as gladly as Dante would have done for "his lady." But Michael would have laid down his in silence, as one casts off a glove.

He had never read the "New Life." It is improbable that it would have made any impression on him if he had read it.

He never associated words or books or poetry with feelings.

What he felt he held sacred.

He was unconsciously by nature that which others of the artistic temperament consciously are in a lesser degree, and are doomed to try to express.
Michael never wanted to express anything, had no impulse of self-revelation, no interest in his own mental experiences.
While Fay was turning over her little _bric-a-brac_ assortment of feelings, her toy renunciations, her imitation convictions, Michael was slowly making the great renunciation without even taking himself into his confidence.