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Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything.
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