shorn of either feeling appeared to
him a diminished thing; and nowhere was the blending of the two
ingredients so essential as in the character of a pretty woman.

It had always seemed to Selden that experience offered a great deal
besides the sentimental adventure, yet he could vividly conceive of a
love which should broaden and deepen till it became the central fact of
life. What he could not accept, in his own case, was the makeshift
alternative of a relation that should be less than this: that should
leave some portions of his nature unsatisfied, while it put an undue
strain on others. He would not, in other words, yield to the growth of an
affection which might appeal to pity yet leave the understanding
untouched: sympathy should no more delude him than a trick of the eyes,
the grace of helplessness than a curve of the cheek.

But now--that little BUT passed like a sponge over all his vows. His
reasoned-out resistances seemed for the moment so much less important
than the question as to when Lily would receive his note! He yielded
himself to the charm of trivial preoccupations, wondering at what hour
her reply would be sent, with what words it would begin. As to its import
he had no doubt--he was as sure of her surrender as of his own. And so
he had leisure to muse on all its exquisite details, as a hard worker, on
a holiday morning, might lie still and watch the beam of light travel
gradually across his room. But if the new light dazzled, it did not blind
him. He could still discern the outline of facts, though his own relation
to them had changed. He was no less conscious than before of what was
said of Lily Bart, but he could separate the woman he knew from the
vulgar estimate of her. His mind turned to Gerty Farish's words, and the
wisdom of the world seemed a groping thing beside the insight of
innocence. BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, FOR THEY SHALL SEE GOD--even
the hidden god in their neighbour's breast! Selden was in the state of
impassioned self-absorption that the first surrender to love produces.
His craving was for the companionship of one whose point of view should
justify his own, who should confirm, by deliberate observation, the truth
to which his intuitions had leaped. He could not wait for the midday
recess, but seized a moment's leisure in court to scribble his telegram
to Gerty Farish.

Reaching town, he was driven direct to his club, where he hoped a note
from Miss Bart might await him