She looked down a moment at his hand, which continued to cover her own; whereupon he presently drew it back, rather restlessly folding his arms. Without answering his question she went on: “Have you ever spoken of me?”
“Spoken of you?”
“Of my being there—of my knowing, and that sort of thing.”
“Oh never to a human creature!” he eagerly declared.
She had a small drop at this, which was expressed in another pause, and she then returned to what he had just asked her. “Oh yes, I quite believe you like it—my always being there and our taking things up so familiarly and successfully: if not exactly where we left them,” she laughed, “almost always at least at an interesting point!” He was about to say something in reply to this, but her friendly gaiety was quicker. “You want a great many things in life, a great many comforts and helps and luxuries—you want everything as pleasant as possible. Therefore, so far as it’s in the power of any particular person to contribute to all that—” She had turned her face to him smiling, just thinking.
“Oh see here!” But he was highly amused. “Well, what then?” he enquired as if to humour her.
“Why the particular person must never fail. We must manage it for you somehow.”
He threw back his head, laughing out; he was really exhilarated. “Oh yes, somehow!”
“Well, I think we each do—don’t we?—in one little way and another and according to our limited lights. I’m pleased at any rate, for myself, that you are; for I assure you I’ve done my best.”
“You do better than any one!” He had struck a match for another cigarette, and the flame lighted an instant his responsive finished face, magnifying into a pleasant grimace the kindness with which he paid her this tribute. “You’re awfully clever, you know; cleverer, cleverer, cleverer—!” He had appeared on the point of making some tremendous statement; then suddenly, puffing his cigarette and shifting almost with violence on his seat, he let it altogether fall.