"Are we not your friends?
It is your own fault if you will not let us be.

You need not be lonely." "You are good to me beyond my power of understanding," I said, "but don't you suppose that I know it is pity merely, sweet pity, but pity only.

I should be a fool not to know that I cannot seem to you as other men of your own generation do, but as some strange uncanny being, a stranded creature of an unknown sea, whose forlornness touches your compassion despite its grotesqueness.

I have been so foolish, you were so kind, as to almost forget that this must needs be so, and to fancy I might in time become naturalized, as we used to say, in this age, so as to feel like one of you and to seem to you like the other men about you.

But Mr.Barton's sermon taught me how vain such a fancy is, how great the gulf between us must seem to you." "Oh that miserable sermon!" she exclaimed, fairly crying now in her sympathy, "I wanted you not to hear it.