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of the song he had sung that night in the garden.
“Le lendemain, Phillis peu sage
Aurait donné moutones et chien
Pour un baiser que le volage
A Lisette donnait pour rien.”
Mary shed tears at the memory; she had never been so unhappy in all her life before.
It was Denis who first broke the silence. “The individual,” he began in a soft and sadly philosophical tone, “is not a self-supporting universe. There are times when he comes into contact with other individuals, when he is forced to take cognizance of the existence of other universes beside himself.”
He had contrived this highly abstract generalization as a preliminary to a personal confidence. It was the first gambit in a conversation that was to lead up to Jenny’s caricatures.
“True,” said Mary; and, generalizing for herself, she added, “When one individual comes into intimate contact with another, she—or he, of course, as the case may be—must almost inevitably receive or inflict suffering.”
“One is apt,” Denis went on, “to be