“If there is in me a Cinderella,” she said unsteadily, “it is you who have discovered it — liberated it — and who have willed that it shall live. Did you suppose that it was in me to make those verses unless you told me that I could do it? You said, ‘Try,’ and instantly I dared try� . Is that not something to stir your pride? A girl as absolutely yours as that? And do not the lesser and commonplace emotions seem trivial in comparison — all the heats and passions and sentimental vapours — the sighs and vows and languishing all the inevitable trappings and masqueradings which bedizzen what men know as love — do they not all seem mean and petty compared to our deep, sweet knowledge of each other?”

“You are wonderful,” I said humbly.