“Nonsense! People may live many years and yet not be aged. The Doctor’s not frisky.”
“Nor very slow, either,” laughed Paul. “Only he will persist in looking backward, and above one’s head, and sometimes inside of one, while you and I always look forward; don’t we, Adele?”
“Why, of course.”
“Well, then, when we reach his age, we may find some satisfaction in the other thing, but just at present I don’t feel like it. The Doctor mixes me up, too, sometimes; even when I understand his words perfectly. It’s the after-effects.”
“‘After-effects’ is good,” said Adele. “I’ve felt ’em myself, lately—in my state-room; but even before that, when they talked in the Sunday-school about Jebusites and Perizites, the most mixed-up crowd I ever met; almost as bad as those so-called scientists we met on the Atlantic. Now, I really care more about Porto Rico and the Philippine Islanders than any of those ancient or modern mixtures; and to return to what I started with, don’t you think the Doctor attempts to explain too much?”
“Well, yes—and no. Of course there are some things no fellow can find out, but the Doctor is not really trying to discover; he merely tries to arrange after his own fashion what he already has read and experienced. He really sees much more than most of us, and he told me he had discovered that fact written in the palm of his own hand.”
“I see he has you well in hand,” said Adele, thoughtlessly.
Paul winced.
Adele felt a slight shiver, and was sorry she had so spoken.
“He has helped me greatly,” said Paul, reminiscent of the Doctor’s friendship. “I never met a man who tried more to give his friends something worth thinking and talking about instead of twaddle and bosh.”