"You said it was the thing in life you desired most to arrive at, and
that wherever you had found it--even where it was supposed to be most
vivid and inspired--it had struck you as deplorably lacking intensity.
At the intensity required, as you said, by any proper respect for
itself, you proposed if possible yourself to arrive--art, research,
curiosity, passion, the historic passion, as you called it, helping you.
From that moment," she went on, "I saw. The sense of the past _is_ your
sense."
He attended with a cold eye. "I haven't an idea what trash I may have
talked."
"Don't be dishonest," she returned after a moment.