"Perhaps you do understand me. Perhaps you do," he said at last. "I have known you a long time. It must be four years, at least—ever since I first came here to work. It has been a long piece of life."
"Indeed it has," Gloria answered, and a moment later she sighed.
The wind blew the sheet of music against her. She folded it impatiently, threw it aside and resumed her position, resting one elbow on the narrow desk. The silence lasted several seconds, and the white curtains flapped softly against the heavy ones.
"I wonder whether you understand my life at all," she said presently.
"I am not sure that I do. It is a strange life, in some ways—like yourself."
"Am I strange?"
"Very."
"What makes you think so?"
Again he was silent for a time. His face was very still. It would have been impossible to guess from it that he felt any emotion at the moment.
"Do you like compliments?" he asked abruptly.