"She sobers you. When you have been with her, when you think of her, it is as if you were in church—only a good deal more so."
"Very convenient and edifying, to have such a private chapel in one's house. Bob, in this mood I can trust you. Tell me one thing: why did you never mention her to me?"
"She doesn't wish me to talk of her to strangers."
"And now the prohibition is removed?"
"You are not a stranger now. She knows you, and you have seen her."
"Well, you are loyal. Does she appreciate such fidelity?"
"We are very good friends. From childhood we have been more together than most brothers and sisters. More or less, I have always been to her as I am now. She is used to me. I do not ask too much of her. Don't fancy that I am in her confidence, or any one: she has a royal reserve. See here, Jim; I am making you one of the family."
"I understand. I must ask you one thing: why did you bring me here, to expose me to all this?"
"You needed a change, Jim, as you half owned just now; almost any change would be for the better. I wanted you to see the world again: there is in it nothing fairer or richer than Clarice."
"You go on as if she were a saint; and yet you say she's not."