``The fact that she's a great artist--that's part of
her,'' said Baird. ``If she weren't a great singer, she
wouldn't be she--don't you see?''
``Yes, I see,'' said Mrs. Brindley with an ironic
sadness which she indulged openly because there was no
danger of his understanding.
``I don't exactly love her because she amounts to a
lot--or is sure to,'' pursued he, vaguely dissatisfied
with himself. ``It's just as she doesn't care for me
because I've got the means to take care of her right, yet
that's part of me--and she'd not be able to marry me
if I hadn't. Don't you see?''
``Yes, I see,'' said Mrs. Brindley with more irony
and less sadness. ``There's always SOME reason beside love.''
``I'd say there's always some reason FOR love,'' said
Baird, and he felt that he had said something brilliant--
as is the habit of people of sluggish mentality when
they say a thing they do not themselves understand.
``You don't doubt that I love her?'' he went on. ``Why
should I ask her to marry me if I didn't?''
``I suppose that settles it,'' said Cyrilla.
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