"I do wish I knew what you mean."
"And when you have been told you may wish you had never known."
"Is it so bad as that?"
"Worse."
"Worse than what?"
"Than anything you imagine."
"Oh, you are simply trying to tease me, Mr. Witherspoon."
"Do you think so? Then we'll say no more about it."
"Oh, but that's worse than ever. Well, I don't care; I can wait."
They talked on subjects in which neither of them was interested, but sympathy was in their voices. Gradually—yes, now it seemed for months—they had been floating toward that fern-covered island in the river of life where a thoughtless word comes back with an echo of love; where the tongue may be silly, but where the eye holds a redeemed soul, returned from God to gaze upon the only remembered rapture of this earth.