“Try to tell me what you mean by feeling.”
“I can’t. It’s another sense.”
“And do you feel nothing else with this sense?”
“No,” said Guy, decidedly. “Nothing. And, many things that I could like—”
“Yes. Try and tell me. I think I shall understand.”
“Yes; oh, you’re so kind. I’ve always felt he never would come where you were. Some people fret me, even in the next room. But, music now—that might lift one away from him, but he stops it; he always stops what I care most for. I could bear it, but my body won’t; that betrays me.”
“Yes, that wants careful looking to. Now, my boy, try and tell me what your own view of the matter is. What you think most likely to be true about it.”
Guy looked up with pitiful puzzled eyes.
“Ask me more questions,” he said.
“Ever read up the subject?”