"She has told me I might," he admitted. "But it seemed so dashed cheeky."
"Why? You are at least ten years older than she. And a friend of the family."
"Ten years is nothing," said the doctor. "And I want to be her friend, not a friend of the family. Besides, she, herself, is not at all like the girls of twenty whom one usually meets."
"She is simpler, perhaps."
"In manner, but not in character. There is a distance, a poise, a—surely you feel what I mean."
"Imagination, John. It is you who create the distance by clinging to formality."
"All right. You're sure you don't object?"
"My dear Bones, why should I possibly?"
The doctor looked sulky. Benis smiled.
"Look here, John," he said after a reflective pause. "Desire is as direct as a child. If she calls you by your first name you can depend that she feels no embarrassment about it. So why should you? And there's another thing. She may not find everything quite easy in Bainbridge. She will need your frank and unembarrassed friendship—as well as mine."