It was as though he had a set speech to make and was in a hurry to get through with it.
"You and I were born for each other.

There is a kinship in our souls which must triumph.

It was no more possible to prevent us from meeting and belonging to each other than to prevent our lips from uniting when they came together.

What do moral conventions or social barriers matter to us?
Our love is made of infinity and eternity." "Yes," she said, lulled by his voice.
But I knew he was lying or was letting his words run away with him.
Love had become an idol, a thing.

He was blaspheming, he was invoking infinity and eternity in vain, paying lip service to it by daily prayer that had become perfunctory.
They let the banality drop.