I asked in hot chagrin.

“Not if it be of this kind, Euan.”

“You would not have me love you?”

“Love!” And the fine edge of her contempt cut clean. “Love!” she repeated coolly. “And we scarcely know each other; have never passed a day together; have never broken bread; know nothing, nothing of each other’s minds and finer qualities; have awakened nothing in each other yet except emotions. Friendships have their deeps and shallows, but are deathless only while they endure. Love hath no shallows, Euan, and endures often when friendship dies� . I speak, having no knowledge. But I believe it. And, believing nobly of true love — in ignorance of it, but still in awe — and having been assailed by clamours of a shameful passion calling itself love —