“Queer thing!” said Captain Grey meditatively. “Never been in this place before—never been in this country before—and yet it’s like coming home!”
“I know that feeling,” said Lexy. “I’ve had it before. I think only people who haven’t any real homes of their own ever have it.”
“But haven’t you any real home?” he asked, evidently distressed.
“No,” she answered; “but please don’t think it’s tragic. It’s not.”
“You haven’t impressed me as tragic,” he admitted.
Lexy laughed.
“Thank goodness!” she said. “I do want to keep on being—well, ordinary and human, even when outside things seem a little tragic.”
“Miss Moran!” he said, and stopped.
It was some time before he spoke again. Lexy took advantage of his abstraction to study his face by the firelight. When you come to understand it a little, it wasn’t a haughty face at all, but a very sensitive and fine one.
“Miss Moran!” he said again. “About being ordinary and human—of course, one wants to be that; but the thing is—I don’t know quite how to put it, but if you have a feeling, you know—I mean a feeling that something is wrong—” He paused again.