"But I don't see that you have any call
to object to my wanting it. You don't have to wish for everything at
once. You have it already."
He received this into one of his thoughtful silences, but presently it
brought him to a standstill. They were within sight of the Grand Canal
again, looking down from the terrace of the Trianon. He leaned against
the marble balustrade and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. His
clear eyes were clouded. He looked profoundly grave. "I am thirty-two
years old," he said, "and never for a moment of that time have I
made any sense out of my position in life. If you call that 'having
everything'--"
It occurred to Sylvia fleetingly that she had never made any sense out
of her position in life either, and had been obliged to do a great
many disagreeable things into the bargain, but she kept this thought
to herself, and looked conspicuously what she genuinely felt, a
sympathetic interest. The note of plain direct sincerity which was
Page's hallmark never failed to arrest her attention, a little to
arouse her wonder, and occasionally, for a reason that she did not
like to dwell upon, somewhat to abash her. The reason was that he
never spoke for effect, and she often did. He was not speaking for
effect now: he seemed scarcely even to be speaking to her, rather to
be musingly formulating something for his own enlightenment.
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