"Why should you want me to?" he said quizzically, looking at her in a curiously searching way.
"Because—because—well...." she floundered, unable to put in words precisely what she felt.
"Because I tell you things?" he put in for her. That clarified her answer.
"No," she said thoughtfully. "Because you say things I've only thought. You see, I've read more than most people give me credit for," she added somewhat irrelevantly.
He studied her from beneath his heavy eyebrows.
"Keep on, my friend," he said very slowly. "Keep on thinking. And then ... act. There are great deeds before you—noble, shining deeds ... if you'll only do them. Yes, some day I shall come again, and we shall talk further upon these matters ... and then—perhaps—who knows what may come of it?" He finished dreamily.
As he took her hand and held it, she sensed a tender smile upon his lips, and a half uttered question in his eyes. But he said no word. He was almost out of sight in the darkness when a thought flashed across her mind. She called him back.
"Mr. Good ... why didn't Roger drink anything to-night? Have you any idea?"
"Yes," he said simply. "I told him ... what it did to me."