Chapter 49

“No. But he’ll end by doing it. And you’ll—let him. . . .” “Well, of course, it’s the logical thing, isn’t it?” “Is there any logic in love?” hotly. “Oh, I ought to put you in a play as a woman with a glass heart, so brittle that when it broke there was no blood in it, and the woman went on without a heart, perfectly happy.” “Nobody is perfectly happy,” calmly, “and we are not talking about my heart, but the play. . . .” He came back to it. “We’ll make it with a touch of symbolism—sardonic—a bit of a burlesque like…