Who's book did she read talking of love?
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"Well, it is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love! And Lady Stanley! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul, and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds."  <context> dded severely. "What can I do to mend it?" She looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my mind than her whole-hearted confidence. "Now tell me what's amiss with me?" "I'm in love with somebody else," said she. It was my turn to jump out of my chair. "It's nobody in particular," she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: "only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean." "Tell me about him. What does he look like?" "Oh, he might look very much like you." "How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don't do? I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only give me an idea what would please you." "Well, it is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love! And Lady Stanley! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul, and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds." "And if I do----" Her dear hand rested upon my lips. "Not another word, Sir! You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour ago; only I hadn't the heart to remind you. Some day, perhaps, when you have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again."