I think I was at a loss; then I said, not very clearly, “I don’t.”

“You think you—you love me, Willie. But you don’t.”

“I do. Nettie! You know I do.”

For answer she shook her head.

I made what I thought was a most heroic plunge. “Nettie,” I said, “I’d

rather have you than—than my own opinions.”

The selaginella still engaged her. “You think so now,” she said.