"Unless," she went on, "if one is coming, you will leave me behind.
You can come back, you know--and I shall have the child."
Then that deep ancient chill of male jealousy of even his own
progeny touched my heart.
"I'd rather have you, Ellador, than all the children in the world.
I'd rather have you with me--on your own terms--than not to have you."
This was a very stupid saying. Of course I would! For if she
wasn't there I should want all of her and have none of her. But
if she went along as a sort of sublimated sister--only much closer
and warmer than that, really--why I should have all of her but that
one thing. And I was beginning to find that Ellador's friendship,
Ellador's comradeship, Ellador's sisterly affection, Ellador's
perfectly sincere love--none the less deep that she held it back
on a definite line of reserve--were enough to live on very happily.
I find it quite beyond me to describe what this woman
was to me. We talk fine things about women, but in our
hearts we know that they are very limited beings--most of them.
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