“Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. Then they deliberated whether Bernard Shaw ought to go into Parliament. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. " "That is your fault, none of mine.
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