“I mean,” he went on, “if you have a feeling like that—a sort of—well, call it uneasiness—the question is whether one ought to laugh at it, or take it as”—once more he stopped—“as a warning,” he ended.
A strange sensation came over Lexy.
“I’ve been thinking a good deal about that very thing lately,” she replied. “I believe feelings like that are a warning. I’m sure it’s wrong—foolish and wrong—to disregard them. Even if every one else, even if your own mind tells you it’s all nonsense, you mustn’t care!”
“I think you’re right,” he gravely agreed. “I’ve been trying to tell myself that I’m an utter ass, but all the time I knew I wasn’t. I knew—I know now—that there’s something—”
An unreasoning dread possessed Lexy. She felt for a moment that she didn’t want to hear any more.
“I’d like to tell you about it, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said. “Somehow I think you could help.”
For an instant she hesitated.
“Please do tell me,” she said at length. “I’d be glad to help, if I can.”
“It’s this,” he said. “Do you mind if I smoke? Thanks!”
He took a cigarette case from his pocket. As he struck a match, she could see his face very clearly in the sudden flame; and, for no reason at all, she pitied him.