Page 217 - the-portrait-of-a-lady
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was to him to make the point that he had not always dis-
         gusted her.
            ‘I can’t reconcile myself to it either, and it’s not the state
         of things that ought to exist between us. If you’d only try to
         banish me from your mind for a few months we should be
         on good terms again.’
            ‘I see. If I should cease to think of you at all for a pre-
         scribed time, I should find I could keep it up indefinitely.’
            ‘Indefinitely  is  more  than  I  ask.  It’s  more  even  than  I
         should like.’
            ‘You  know  that  what  you  ask  is  impossible,’  said  the
         young man, taking his adjective for granted in a manner
         she found irritating.
            ‘Aren’t you capable of making a calculated effort?’ she
         demanded. ‘You’re strong for everything else; why shouldn’t
         you be strong for that?’
            ‘An effort calculated for what?’ And then as she hung fire,
         ‘I’m capable of nothing with regard to you,’ he went on, ‘but
         just of being infernally in love with you. If one’s strong one
         loves only the more strongly.’
            ‘There’s a good deal in that”; and indeed our young lady
         felt the force of it—felt it thrown off, into the vast of truth
         and poetry, as practically a bait to her imagination. But she
         promptly came round. ‘Think of me or not, as you find most
         possible; only leave me alone.’
            ‘Until when?’
            ‘Well, for a year or two.’
            ‘Which do you mean? Between one year and two there’s
         all the difference in the world.’

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