Surely
all that was good in him remains in me. I am the good in him, severed
from the unhappy, and made fortunate."
"But what was it in him that I loved?" she asked, looking at Turl as if
in search of something missing.
He could only say: "If you reject me, he is stultified. His plan
contemplated no such unhappiness. If you cause that unhappiness, you so
far bring disaster on his plan."
She shook her head, and repeated sadly: "You are not the same."
"But surely the love I have for you--that is the same--the old love
transmitted to the new self. In that, at least, Murray Davenport survives
in me--and I'm willing that he should."
Again she vainly asked: "What was it in him that I loved--that I still
love when I think of him? I try to think of you as the Murray Davenport I
knew, but--"
"But I wouldn't have you think of me as Murray Davenport. Even if I
wished to be Murray Davenport again, I could not. To re-transform myself
is impossible. Even if I tried mentally to return to the old self, the
return would be mental only, and even mentally it would never be
complete. You say truly the old Murray Davenport is lost. What was it you
loved in him? Was it his unhappiness? His misfortune? Then, perhaps, if
you doom me to unhappiness now, you will in the end love me for my
unhappiness." He smiled despondently.
"I don't know," she said. "It isn't a matter to decide by talk, or even
by thought. I must see how I feel. I must get used to the situation.
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