Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/80

and you carried me into the house, and I saw how noble you were, and strong, and grand, I should-oh, my dear! I would make it up to you.

"Once you told me I was cold—to you. I was sorry. But I did n't say anything. I only wished you had understood. I think I am writing this note to try to make you understand.

"My Dear and Distant: Now, for the first time in my life, I know what distance means. I thought I knew, of course. The curious thing about inexperience is that it does not recognize its master in experience; perhaps, if it did, it would cease to be inexperience. That reminds me that you told me once that I spelled love with a small instead of with a large one like most women, and that you should never be satisfied with mine until you had taught me to read it with a capital L, and another word with a capital M. I think you said it was the very essence of loving, in a woman, to spell her feeling properly—and that, as long as she did not, she was still half unwon. I wonder how you happen to think you know what is the essence of loving in a woman?