She came over to Douglas with outstretched hands, and he was bewildered, for she had not smiled upon him like this once during that long journey to London.
"So it is I who have had to come to you," she exclaimed, taking his hands in hers. "May I sit down and talk for a little while? I am so glad—every one is glad—that you are better."
He laughed, a little oddly.
"Every one? Why I could count on the fingers of one hand the people with whom I have spoken since I came to London."
She nodded.
"Yes," she said, "but to-day you could not count in an hour the people who know you. You are very fortunate. You have made a wonderful start. You have got over all your difficulties so easily."
"So easily?" He smiled again and then shuddered. She looked into his face, and she too felt like shuddering.
"You do not know," he said. "No one will ever know what it is like—to go under—to be saved as it were by a miracle."
"You suffered, I know," she murmured, "but you gained a wonderful experience."
"You do not understand," he said, in a low tone. "No one will ever understand."