"I never did, but nothing is exactly the same as anything else. We talked of that once."
"Then since the world began there never was another me or Leila?"
"Never. There is only one of anything."
John was silent—in thought of his unresemblance to any other John. "But
I am like Uncle Jim! Aunt says so."
"Yes, outwardly you are; but you have what he has not—imagination. It is both friend and foe as may be. It may not be a good gift for a soldier—at least one form of it. It may be the parent of fear—of indecisions."
"But, Mr. Rivers, may it not work also for good and suggest possibilities—let you into seeing what other men may do?"
The reflection seemed to Rivers not like the thought of so young a man. He returned, "But I said it might be a friend and have practical uses in life. I have not found it that myself. But some men have morbid imagination. Let us walk." They went on again through the quiet splendour of the woodlands.
"Uncle Jim is going away after the election."
"Yes."
"He will see Leila. Don't you miss her?"