“Yes, and I can help him. I saw that in the talks we had. One can tell, sometimes, when, of a sudden, one comes into sympathetic touch with another nature. It is like taking a key out of your pocket at need, and finding it fit a strange lock and turn easily, and so open a life to you. The sentence isn’t good, but you know what I mean.”
“I do.” And again he was quiet a little while.
“Miss Anne, may I tell you something?”
“Why not?”
“You may not like it.”
“Perhaps not. That is of no moment. I want to hear. I always want to hear. My appetite for the unknown is like that of a ghost for realities.”
“This is real enough.”
“Well?”
“I care—oh, a great deal—for Miss Lyndsay.”
“Do you call that a secret? It was arithmetically revealed to me by five roses, which should have been six.”