Fifi dismissed this with a smile, but he immediately added: "Has it occurred to you that, apart from my greater concentration on my work, I am different from other men?"
"Why, Mr. Queed, you are no more like them than I am! You don't do any of the things they do. You don't—"
"Such as what? Now, Fifi, let us be definite as we go along. Suppose that it was my ambition to be, as you say, like other men. Just what things, in your opinion, should I do?"
"Well, smoke—that's one thing that all men do. And fool around more with people—laugh and joke, and tell funny stories and all. And then you could take an interest in your appearance—your clothes, you know; and be interested in all sorts of things going on around you, like politics and baseball. And go to see girls and take them out sometimes, like to the theatre. Some men that are popular drink, but of course I don't care for that."
Fifi, of course, had no idea that the little Doctor's world had been shattered to its axis that morning by three minutes' talk from Colonel Cowles. Therefore, though conscious that there never was a man who did not get a certain pleasure from talking himself over, she was secretly surprised at the patience, even the interest, with which he listened to her. She would have been still more surprised to know that his wonderful memory was nailing down every word with machine-like accuracy.
She expounded her little thesis in considerable detail, and at the end he said:—
"As I've told you, Fifi, my first duty is toward my book—to give it to the cause of civilization at the earliest possible moment. Therefore, the whole question is one of time, rather than of deliberate personal inclination. At present I literally cannot afford to give time to matters which, while doubtless pleasant enough in their fashion—"
"That's what you would have said about the exercise, two months ago. And now look, how it's helped you! And then, Mr. Queed—are you happy?"
Surprised and a little amused, he replied: "Really, I've never stopped to think. I should say, though, that I was perfectly content."
Fifi laughed and coughed. "There's a big difference—isn't there? Why, it's just like the exercise, Mr. Queed. Before you began it you were just not sick; now you are very well. That's the difference between content and happiness. Now I," she ran on, "am very, very happy. I wake up in the mornings so glad that I'm alive that sometimes I can hardly bear it, and all through the day it's like something singing away inside of me! Are you like that?"