"And you, Edward? Is there something in this world for which you'd surrender your life and your soul, if need be? You need not answer--I saw in your face and in your heart, last night, as you bent over the bed. Good art, good art--both of you. I have found several sorts of good and original art in this world, enough to justify encouraging your Artist to try again. But there was so much that was bad, poorly drawn and amateurish, that I could not find it in me to approve the work as a whole until I encountered and savored this, the tragedy of human love." Cynthia looked at him wildly. "Tragedy? you say 'tragedy'?" He looked at her with eyes that were not pitying, but serenely appreciative. "What else could it be, my dear?"