"That is a rebuke for the presumption of my remark?" he said.
"No," said Stella.
"I did not mean to be presumptuous. Think. Your uncle has lived the whole of his life alone, the life of a solitary, a hermit; suddenly there enters into that life a young and beau—a young girl, full of the spirit of youth and its aspirations. It must make a great change."
"As I said," says Stella, "he bears it with pious fortitude." Then she added, in a lower voice, "He is very good to me."
"He could not be otherwise," was the quiet response. "I mean that he could not be anything but good, gentle, and loving with any living thing. I have known him since I was a boy," he added. "He was always the same, always living a life of dreams. I wonder whether he takes you as a dream?"
"A very substantial and responsible one, then," said Stella, with her little laugh. "One that lasts through the daytime."
He looked at her with that strange intent look which she had learned that she could not meet.
"And you?" he said.
"I?" said Stella, though she knew what he meant.