That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. "He never let me keep a dog or a cat about the house. He wants you so, he is still a virgin. ” “Very well,” he said.
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