She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so.
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