“What an oddity he is!” thoughtfully. “I liked him so much: but it is difficult to reconcile him with slumming.”
“He’s one of the best. Every one loves him. And he does his slumming in quite a way of his own. I’ve been with him sometimes, and he just goes among the rough characters down there as if he hated being a swell and wanted to be one of them. He positively asks them for sympathy, and of course it takes their fancy and he is friends with them all.”
“I think you are a remarkable trio altogether. Hal’s cousin Dick is just as original in his way as St. Quintin. And you, of course, are somehow different to the majority. I wonder how you will each end? St. Quintin will perhaps become a bishop. Dick Bruce will write an astounding, weird novel, and bound into fame. And you? …”
He flushed a little. “I shall be left far behind by both of them, futilely wishing to catch up.”
“I hope not. Your chance is just as good as theirs, if you choose to make it so,”
“I fail to see that I have any chance at all.”
“Most chances rest chiefly with ourselves. It’s a great thing to be ready for them if they come. I hope you’ll be that.”
“I hope so too, but it would be easier if one were more sure they were coming,” and he laughed with a lightness that jarred a little.
She rose to go, as it was getting late, feeling slightly disappointed in some vague way; and when they parted she noticed that his handshake was slightly limp, as of one who would not grasp life tightly enough to compel it to surrender its good things to him.
But in her own sanctum she rallied herself, and hardened her heart, asking what had it to do with her after all, and how could his success or non-success in any way concern her.