"Now a man cannot always get one, even when he asks for her," and David turned red again and knotted his hands.
"I am so glad the schoolhouse was not damaged by the storm," observed Gabriella, reflecting.
David fell into a revery but presently awoke.
"There are more men than women in the world. On an average, that is only a fraction of a woman to every man. Still the men cannot take care of them. But it ought to be a real pleasure to every man to take care of an entire woman."
"Did you ever notice the hands in that portrait?"
David glanced at the portrait without noticing it, and went his way.
"Since a man knows nothing else was created for him, he feels his loneliness without her so much more deeply. They ought to be very good and true to each other—a man and a woman—since they two are alone in the universe."
He gulped down his words and stood up, trembling.
"I must be going," he said, without even looking at Gabriella, and went out into the hall for his coat.
"Bring it in here." she called. "It is cold out there." She watched how careless he was about making himself snug for his benumbing walk. He had a woollen comforter which he left loosely tied about his neck.