“Aren’t you?” said Doctor Hilary quietly.
“Of course not,” replied Trix. There was a hint of indignation in her voice. “And please don’t say I am, or else it will make me feel that you think I said what I did say just in order that you might contradict me. Like fishing for a compliment, you know. And I didn’t mean that in the least, I didn’t truly.”
Doctor Hilary smiled, a queer little smile.
“I know you didn’t mean that. But all the same I am going to contradict you.”
Trix looked up. “Oh well,” she began, laughing and half resignedly. And then something in Doctor Hilary’s face made her stop suddenly, her heart beating at a mad pace.
“You have become very important in my life,” he said quietly. “I did not realize how important, till you went away.”
Trix was silent.
“I am not very good at making pretty speeches,” said Doctor Hilary steadily, “but I hope you understand exactly what I mean. You have become so important to my welfare that I should find it exceedingly difficult to go on living without you. I suppose I should do it somehow if I must, but probably I should make a very poor job of it.” He stopped.
Trix gave a sudden little intake of her breath. For a moment there was a dead silence. Then:—
“Will you always feed me when I am depressed?” she asked. And there was a little quiver half of laughter, half of tears, in her voice.