"I think," he pronounced, "that it is very possible he would. I can well imagine it."
"He might never find anybody to love him like that again," she said, gazing on the gleaming paddock.
"He probably would not," agreed the philosopher.
"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.