"
"I'm not very sure you do," May Bartram after a moment said; "and
I'm not very sure I ought to want you to. It's dreadful to bring a
person back at any time to what he was ten years before. If you've
lived away from it," she smiled, "so much the better."
"Ah if YOU haven't why should I?" he asked.
"Lived away, you mean, from what I myself was?"
"From what I was. I was of course an ass," Marcher went on; "but I
would rather know from you just the sort of ass I was than--from
the moment you have something in your mind--not know anything."
Still, however, she hesitated. "But if you've completely ceased to
be that sort--?"
"Why I can then all the more bear to know. Besides, perhaps I
haven't."
"Perhaps. Yet if you haven't," she added, "I should suppose you'd
remember. Not indeed that I in the least connect with my
impression the invidious name you use. If I had only thought you
foolish," she explained, "the thing I speak of wouldn't so have
remained with me. It was about yourself." She waited as if it
might come to him; but as, only meeting her eyes in wonder, he gave
no sign, she burnt her ships.
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