“What other person?”
“Charlotte Wentworth!”
Mr. Brand looked at Felix for a moment sidewise, mistrustfully; then his eyes slowly wandered over the ceiling. Felix was sure he was secretly struck with the romance of the situation. “I think this is none of our business,” the young minister murmured.
“None of mine, perhaps; but surely yours!”
Mr. Brand lingered still, looking at the ceiling; there was evidently something he wanted to say. “What do you mean by Miss Gertrude being strong?” he asked abruptly.
“Well,” said Felix meditatively, “I mean that she has had a great deal of self-possession. She was waiting—for years; even when she seemed, perhaps, to be living in the present. She knew how to wait; she had a purpose. That’s what I mean by her being strong.”
“But what do you mean by her purpose?”
“Well—the purpose to see the world!”
Mr. Brand eyed his strange informant askance again; but he said nothing. At last he turned away, as if to take leave. He seemed bewildered, however; for instead of going to the door he moved toward the opposite corner of the room. Felix stood and watched him for a moment—almost groping about in the dusk; then he led him to the door, with a tender, almost fraternal movement. “Is that all you have to say?” asked Mr. Brand.
“Yes, it’s all—but it will bear a good deal of thinking of.”