"Perhaps—in fact, I must have, because I understand so thoroughly what you mean; but it must have been a very, very long time ago."
His tone was that of one gravely amused, indulgently caressing. Heavens! he was thinking. The contrast here was quite delicious; in fact, it was unique. If only Lilith could have seen into his thoughts at that moment, if only she had had the faintest inkling as to their nature an hour or so back. Still something in his look or in his tone sobered her.
"Ah, Laurence, forgive me," she cried. "How unfeeling I am, throwing my light-heartedness at you in this way, when things are going so badly with you."
"Unfeeling? Why, child, I love to see you rejoicing in the bright happiness of your youth and glowing spirits. I would not have you otherwise for all the world."
"No, I ought not to feel that way just now, when you—when so many all round us—are passing through such a dreadfully anxious and critical time. Tell me, Laurence, are things brightening for you even a little?"
"Not even a little; the case is all the other way. But don't you think about it, child. Be happy while you can and as long as you can. It is the worst possible philosophy to afflict yourself over the woes of other people."
Now the tears did indeed well to Lilith's eyes, but assuredly this time they were not tears of joy and thankfulness. One or two even fell.
"Don't sneer, Laurence. You must keep the satire and cynicism for all the world, if you will, but keep the inner side of your nature for me," said she, and in the sweet, pleading ring in her voice there was no lack of feeling now. "You have had about ten times more than your share of all the dark and bitter side of life. You will not refuse my sympathy—my deepest, most heartfelt sympathy—will you, dear? Ah, would that it were only of any use at all!"
"Your sympathy? Why, I value and prize it more than anything else in the world—in fact it is the only thing in the world I do value. 'Of any use at all?' It is of some use—of incalculable use, perhaps."