He looked at her with a sort of severity.
"I lock the door of the room, or, rather, it locks itself. You haven't noticed it?"
"No."
"It's the same as the outer door of a flat. I have a latch-key to it."
He said nothing, but smiled. All the sudden grimness had gone out of his face.
Hermione withdrew her hand from the drawer holding the letters.
"Here they are!"
"My complaints, my egoism, my ambitions, my views—Mon Dieu! Hermione, what a good friend you've been!"
"And some people say you're not modest!"
"I—modest! What is modesty? I know my own value as compared with that of others, and that knowledge to others must often seem conceit."