“Yes,” said Cicely, looking up in his face with a questioning in her eyes. Was he laughing at her?
“Ah! I thought so,” he said, shaking his head gravely. “Once upon a time I could have sympathised with you, but now—”
“Well, what now?” she asked, eagerly.
“Now, I have grown wiser.”
“How?”
“I have come to think one can do very well without much understanding or sympathy; that too little is better than too much. Too much is enervating.”
“Is that true?” she said seriously.
“I think so,” he answered.
“But you are a man,” she objected.
“And you are a woman,” he replied.