He was very weak and unstrung, and while a tremulous smile hovered about his mouth, his eyes so moistened that he turned toward the wall. After a moment he said, "Miss Walton, I am not worthy of your kindness."
"Nor are you unworthy. But kindness is not a matter of business—so much for so much."
"Why do you waste your time on me?"
"That is a childish question. What a monster I should be if I heedlessly left you to suffer! The farmers' wives around would mob me."
"I am very grateful for the relief you are giving me, even though mere humanity is the motive."
"Mere humanity is not my motive. You are our guest, the son of my father's dearest friend, and for your own sake I am deeply interested in you."
"Miss Walton, I know in the depths of your soul you are disgusted with me. You seek to apply those words to my spirit as you do cologne to my head."
"I beg your pardon. It is not the cologne only that relieves your headache."
"I know that well. It is your touch, which seems magical."
"Well then, you should know from my touch that I am not sitting here telling fibs. If I should bathe your head with a wooden hand, wouldn't you know it?"