"That's the way I'd know it too."
"And you don't?"
In a long silence he looked at her. She looked at him. Each strove
after the mystery which warps the child to the mother, the mother to
the child. Where was it? What was it? How could you tell it when you
saw it? And if you saw it, could you miss it and pass it by? He sought
it in her eyes; she sought it in his. They sought it by all the avenues
of intuitive, spiritual sight.
She tapped her heart again. Her utterance was imperious, insistent, and
yet soft.
"And you _don't_--feel it there?"