"No," he refused. "I'd still rather not. Nor shall I ask yours. Please don't volunteer it."
Came a moment's silence, there in the darkening hut, with the fire-glow red upon their faces.
"Happy," said the girl. "You say you're happy. While I—"
"Are not unhappy, surely?" asked Gabriel, leaning forward as he sat there beside her, and gazing keenly into her face.
"How should I know?" she answered. "Unhappy? No, perhaps not. But vacant—empty—futile!"
"Yes, I believe you," Gabriel judged. "You tell me no news. And as you are, you will ever be. You will live so and die so. No, I won't preach. I won't proselytize. I won't even explain. It would be useless. You are one pole, I the other. And the world—the whole wide world—lies between!"
Suddenly she spoke.
"You're a Socialist," said she. "What does it mean to be a Socialist?"
"You couldn't understand, if I told you," he answered.