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Updated: May 9, 2025
Nor did she ever quite forget how long he had worshipped with unostentatious devotion at her lowly shrine of the caisse in the Café des Exiles, and how shabbily she had rewarded his admiration never once, in those many months, with so much as a smile and how unresentful had been his acceptance of her half-feigned, half-real indifference to his existence.
So they would have been content to wander for hours, perhaps he begging for assurances that she with an only half-feigned, pretty reluctance gave but that their agreeable dalliance was cut short by a sufficiently alarming interruption. She did not absolutely dislike him? Liked him very much, even? That was well.
She said again in the same tone, "I'll believe that the end lies five posts for- ward, and no further, and so get strength to pass them." This was a practical application of the principle that a half-feigned and fictitious faith is better than no faith at all. She passed five posts and held on to the fifth. "I'll pass five more by believing my longed-for spot is at the next fifth.
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