I love you to the heart's hid core:
Those other loves? How can one learn
From marshlights how the great fires burn?
Ah, no--I never loved before!

When he read it through he entitled it, "The Veil of Maya," so that it
might pretend to have no personal application.

After that more than ever rankled the memory of that first morning.

"How could I?" he asked himself. "I must indeed have been in a gross
mood. One seems sometimes to act outside oneself altogether. Temporary
possession by some brutal ancestor perhaps. Well, it's not too late."

Next morning he worked at his picture, in the rabbit-warren, but his
head found itself turning towards the way by which on that first day
she had gone. She must know that on a day like this he would not be
wasting the light,--that he would be working. She would be wanting to
see him again. Would she come out? He wished she would. But he hoped
she wouldn't. It would have meant another readjustment of ideas. He
need not have been anxious. She did not come.

He worked steadily, masterfully. He always worked best at the
beginning of a love affair. All of him seemed somehow more alive, more
awake, more alert and competent. His mood was growing quickly to what
he meant it to be. He was what actors call a quick study. Soon he
would be able to play perfectly, without so much as a thought to the
"book," the part of Paul to this child's Virginia.