Pyramus and Thisbe

Stephen . I confess there is some virtue in it. To give a young lady a bouquet of your own making, or your own buying, is assuredly it’s own reward. But to serve as a mere bald go-between; to present a bunch of lilies and roses on the part of another a mysterious unknown to act, as it were, as the senseless clod of earth in which they’re wrapped for transportation, and not as their thrilling, teeming, conscious parent soil, this, Miss West, I assure you, is to make a terrible sacrifice to vanity.