"I met him in Munich, when I first went abroad, and since then we have often come upon each other in our wanderings. He never writes, but goes and comes intent upon his own affairs; yet one never can forget him, and is always glad to feel the grip of his hand again, it seems to put such life and courage into one."
"Is he good?" asked Sylvia, womanlike, beginning with the morals.
"Violently virtuous. He is a masterful soul, bent on living out his beliefs and aspirations at any cost. Much given to denunciation of wrong-doing everywhere, and eager to execute justice upon all offenders high or low. Yet he possesses great nobility of character, great audacity of mind, and leads a life of the sternest integrity."
"Is he rich?"
"In his own eyes, because he makes his wants so few."
"Is he married?"
"No; he has no family, and not many friends, for he says what he means in the bluntest English, and few stand the test his sincerity applies."
"What does he do in the world?"
"Studies it, as we do books; dives into everything, analyzes character, and builds up his own with materials which will last. If that's not genius it's something better."
"Then he will do much good and be famous, won't he?"