"His words confirmed the impression I'd always had of his disappearance; yet, even in the midst of his hopelessness I seemed to detect a note of hesitation, something concealed from me—perhaps concealed from him, for he rarely analyzed his own reactions. I led him away from his story for a while, trying to fix the status of his existence. We talked of old times; he remembered them keenly, kept citing queer details, jests that used to amuse us, chance remarks that seemed to have lodged in his mind. Almost at once, his infectious laugh came into play. The old spirit was unquenchable. By Jove, the man wasn't half so hopeless as he would have himself believe.... I took my eyes away from him, looked around at the jungle rising against the hills; and all at once it struck me how closely he resembled, in essential nature, the land he'd stumbled on. A land full of the instinct of beauty, the gift of love; weary, too, and wise with age, yet fired with the undying youth of quick vitality.
"'Why don't you stay here?' I demanded 'Why talk of going home? I have a notion that you belong here. Why don't you love, be happy?...'
"'No, no!' he interrupted hurriedly 'You don't know what you're talking about' He stopped short, gazing at me as if he were searching my mind. 'Love won't come to me again' said he.
"'Nonsense!' I answered 'That's morbid, Bert. What possible reason...'
"'Good God!' he burst out 'Haven't I the right to know?' He wandered to the railing, leaned against a post there, and turned his face away. 'Long ago' said he slowly 'I took every ray and hope of love out of my heart, and took them in my hands—so—and crushed them, and killed them, and threw them down—as if I'd taken my heart itself and squeezed the last drop of blood out of it like a sponge. I tell you, Nichols, the thing's dead'
"'But you haven't told me' I reminded him.
"He took a longer walk this time, round the corner of the verandah; when he came back, he sat down beside me like a man tired with carrying a load. 'Do you remember a little girl I used to talk about?' he asked 'I think you met her once in New York, the year before I left. Her name was Helen Rand'
"'A slender girl with dark hair and brown eyes?'
"'Yes.... Well, she went away. She's got the same eyes now, wide childish....'
"'Now!' I shouted 'You don't mean—she isn't...'