The girl stood silent, with lowered eyes, reflecting for a moment. Then she looked up curiously.
"Have you never been very unhappy?"
"I had a toothache once."
She said, unsmiling: "Haven't you ever suffered mentally?"
"No—not seriously. Oh, I've regretted little secret meannesses—bad temper, jealousy—"
"Nothing else? Have you never experienced deep unhappiness—through death, for example?"
"No, thank God. My father and mother and sister are living…. It is rather strange," he added, partly to himself, "that the usual troubles and sorrows have so far passed me by. I am twenty-seven; there has never been a death in my family, or among my intimate friends."
"Have you any intimate friends?"
"Well—perhaps not—in the strict sense. I don't confide."
"Have you never cared, very much, for anybody—any woman?"