"It is rather profound, isn't it? But how have you enjoyed yourself in London?"
"Oh! moderately well. For the first two weeks or so we had rather a gay time, then things got flat, or I got flat. And then the weather, you know, was atrocious. Those London fogs are a treat!"
"So I've heard. I've had no experience of them."
"Well, you needn't be envious. But how about your invention? I've been looking for your name in the papers. When are you going to astonish us all?"
His face clouded in a moment and his eyes caught a far-away look. "It is never safe to prophesy," he said, after a pause.
"But you are still quite sure of success?" she questioned, a little anxiously.
He smiled a little bit sadly, and answered, "A friend of mine sometimes encourages me by telling me that there is nothing certain in this world but death."
"Your friend must be a pessimist," she said, "and I don't like pessimists. But tell me candidly, has your success been imperilled in any way by—by—your accident?"
"No, I do not think so," he answered, quickly. "My work has been delayed a little, that is all. If I fail, it will not be on that account."
"But you are not going to fail, of course you are not."