She handed him the muffins. She ministered to him as if she wanted to pet him. Again he had to feel grateful. Even in acute dislike men must be conscious of real charm in a woman. And Isaacson did not know how to ignore anything that was beautiful. Had the Devil come to him—with a grace, he must have thought, "How graceful is the Devil!" Now he was charmed by her gesture. Nevertheless, being a man of will, and, in the main, a man who was very sincere, he called up his hard resolutions, and said:
"No, I don't think you are grateful. I don't think you are the woman to be grateful without a cause."
"Or with one," he mentally added.
"But here is the cause!"
She touched his sleeve. And suddenly, with that touch, all her charm for him vanished, and he was angry with her for daring to treat him like those boys by whom she had been surrounded, for daring to think that she could play upon the worst in him.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken," he said. "I am no cause for your gratitude."
She looked more cordial and natural even than before.
"But I think you are. For you don't really like me, and yet you come to see me. That is unselfishness."
"Only supposing what you say were true, and that you did like me."
"I do like you."