“It’s very beautiful,” she said, with an effort. “Is it Matthew Arnold?”
“Nearer home. You an American, and don’t know your Whittier? That passage from his ‘Agassiz’ comes pretty near to being what life means to me. Have I answered your requirements?”
“Fully and finely.”
She rose from the rock upon which she had been seated, and stretched out both hands to him. He took and held them without awkwardness or embarrassment. By that alone she could have known that he was suffering with a pain that submerged consciousness of self.
“Whether I see you again or not, I’ll never forget you,” she said softly. “You have been good to me, Mr. Perkins.”
“I like the other name better,” he said.
“Of course. Mr. Beetle Man.” She laughed a little tremulously. Abruptly she stamped a determined foot. “I’m not going away without having seen my friend for once. Take off your glasses, Mr. Beetle Man.”
“Too much radiance is bad for the microscopical eye.”
“The sun is under a cloud.”
“But you’re here, and you’d glow in the dark.”