“And—and most people like being loved, don’t they?”
“To crave for love is an almost universal instinct, Miss May.”
“Yes, almost,” she said, with a dreary little smile. “You see, he’ll get old, and-and have no one to look after him.”
“He will.”
“And no home.”
“Well, in a sense, none,” corrected the philosopher, smiling. “But really you’ll frighten me. I’m a bachelor myself, you know, Miss May.”
“Yes,” she whispered, just audibly.
“And all your terrors are before me.”
“Well, unless—”
“Oh, we needn’t have that ‘unless’,” laughed the philosopher, cheerfully. “There’s no ‘unless’ about it, Miss May.”