"And suppose--now this is the worst of it--now suppose one really loved
another--one found one's soul dream," she paused, blushing.
"Soul dreams, Elsie, ay, I think I understand," I said. "I too have
them--they are the great, unattainable things of our life. Do you know
I think that their being unattainable is what makes them great?"
She looked up. "If it is worth so much--this unattainable thing--why
then does it hurt so?"
"Ay, ay, that's it. It is the things that hurt which count. 'Our
sweetest love is always sweetest pain,'" I said, quoting the line of a
poem.
"Oh," she said, clasping my arm. "You have said it, Jack."