“It was brave of you to come.” And then to Santa, “Of you, too. But of you it was expected.”
Hindwood bristled like a dog. He was distrustful of romantic attitudes. “Let's get down to facts. You know as well as I do that it wasn't any lofty motive that brought me.”
“No?” The eye-brows arched themselves comically. “Then what?”
“Your wife's message.”
“Ah! I understand. She didn't tell me. You see, she thinks I'm going to get myself killed at last; probably she wants you to help stop me. Not that I'm of the least use to her—don't think that. But she's the soul of honor. My death would mean her freedom; because of that she'd do anything in her power to prevent—”
Hindwood drew himself erect. “These are matters which it's not decent for us to discuss.”
The narrow shoulders flew up into a shrug. “Why on earth not? When things are so, there can be nothing indecent in being frank about them. Is it less indecent for you to love my wife than for me to tell that I know you love her? There'd be no sense in your loving her unless you both hoped—I won't finish what I was going to say; your feelings are so sensitive.” He rested his hand not unkindly on Hindwood's arm. “Don't you realize, my dear fellow, that you're to be congratulated? This happening which means catastrophe for countless millions, for you and Anna spells opportunity. Be honest. You would not have risked visiting me, if you had not realized that.”
Hindwood sought for spitefulness in Varensky's tones. All he found was the surge of a quiet happiness.
“One would think that I wanted you to die!” he exclaimed blankly.
“Well, don't you? Why shouldn't you?” Varen-sky smiled sadly. “If I could love Anna or any other woman the way you do—— But no—to me such affections have been denied. I love people only in crowds, by tens of thousands and by nations; in my heart there's no room for more human passions. I'm God's instrument; the hour of my testing is at hand. These mildewed walls inclose my Gethsemane.”