"But you've never been there, child."
"I know," I said; "but, then, I have an instinctive feeling about that country. A blind man can find his way over paths that he intuitively feels. And so with me. I feel as if I knew everything about that land, and when I sit down to write—why, things just come pouring to me, and I can write anything then."
I could feel his slow smile, and then he said:
"I believe you can. I don't doubt that you will accomplish all that you hope to. You are a wonderful girl."
He stood up, and held out his hand to help me, saying we had better be returning now, as he expected to take a train at eleven. My heart sank to think that his visit was to be so short, and I felt a passionate regret that there was nothing I could do or say that would keep him longer.
As we were walking down the avenue, he put the hand nearest me behind his back, and with the other swung his cane slightly. He seemed to be thinking all the time.
I asked him whether he was going to come and see me again, and he said quickly:
"If you do what I tell you."
"You mean about the school?" I asked.