167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. “Forgive me,” he said. "You'll never return. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. Do you remember your first day with me?. He’s been near it once or twice already. One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. His suspicions at first fell upon you. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must.
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