“No one has talked to me like you,” he said, “no one.”
And he caught his breath and stared with a strange expression at his benefactor.
He bit at a finger nail and lowered his head. He seemed suddenly in the throes of a great mental struggle for his face had become earnest.
It endured for a moment and then he looked at Moisse.
“You—you want me to come along with you,” he said and he scratched at the back of his ear.
“I’ll come along if you want me to,” he repeated.
“Come along? Where?” Moisse asked, his eyes awakening.
“Oh, anyplace,” said the little old man. “I ain’t particular, if you ain’t.”
He was breathing quickly and he reached for the palm of his patron.
A deep light had come into his face. His faded eyes had grown stronger. Their quizzical look was gone and they were burning in their wet depths.