I like you very much, I haven’t known you enough to love you, no matter how worthy you are of love. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. I’m a soldier, you see. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. On the contrary. They moved fast. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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