"By all means!" Violet understood perfectly.
"I have certain ideas that I never divulge to them. They would only laugh. What would it mean to them if I were to say that I had purple moods—and red moods—"
"Probably nothing," returned Violet, quickly and with close attention. "Black and green and blue are the only common ones."
Edgar looked at her suspiciously. Had the fountain of healing admiration vanished, and was she laughing at him? Not at all. She was regarding him with a respect and awe which he could not doubt.
"Explain the others to me. Do you think you could?" she asked.
"I'm afraid not," he answered gently, "but, well, for instance, while in the purple mood I could never learn to clog. Does that mean anything to you?"
"Ah, yes," returned Violet fervently. "I see. You would be too intense."
"Exactly. In the red, I might. It would depend on which way it took me."
His listener nodded earnestly. "Yes, yes. A berserk rage is red. They always see red in books."
"But so is a glowing sunset red," said Edgar. "The red of joy. I see you understand. Oh, what rest it is to have people understand!"