“No,” quietly. “I have been watching my neighbors, that’s all. Men are awfully excited about men-things. I don’t blame them. They do have lots of fun, boys and men.... But you will make it work, all right.”
“Why?”
“Well,” she thought, “you will try; and then you aren’t at all interested in yourself—No! you aren’t—You are always thinking of somebody else. I’ve watched you—”
“Oh!” he cried, “you’ll make me self-conscious.”
“Often, I’ve watched you. I notice that your eye is always looking to see what other persons need. You get chairs before other men notice they are wanted, and you open doors, and pass things before they’re asked for, and all that sort of thing.... And, you understand—”
“Understand?”
“Yes; you understand ... you understand—me, for instance.”
They looked at each other a quiet second or two.
“I wonder if I do,” he said, trying to smile like a grandfather.
They walked across the hall into the library.