"A wisp of tow to catch the first spark that flies?
A brand ever smouldering, which the first breath o' woman stirs to flame ?" "Never have I loved before----" "Love! Euan, are you mad ?" We both were breathing fast and brokenly.
"What is it then, if it be not love!" I asked angrily.
"What is it ?" she repeated slowly.

Yet I seemed to feel in her very voice a faint, cool current of contempt.

"Why, it is what always urges men to speak, I fancy--their natural fire--their easily provoked emotions....

I had believed you different." "Did you not desire my friendship ?" I asked in hot chagrin.
"Not if it be of this kind, Euan." "You would not have me love you ?" "Love!" And the fine edge of her contempt cut clean.

"Love!" she repeated coolly.