Then the Poet in his turn also winked, chuckled, and wagged his head too.
"We understand each other, Humphrey. We always do."
"We must make our own opportunity," said the Artist thoughtfully. "Not together, but separately."
"Surely separately. Together would never do."
"We will go to bed early to-night, in order to be fresh to-morrow. Have you—did you—can you give me any of your own experiences in this way, Cornelius?"
The Poet shook his head.
"I may have been wooed," he said. "Men of genius are always run after. But as I am a bachelor, you see it is clear that I never proposed."
Humphrey had much the same idea in his own mind, and felt as if the wind was a little taken out of his sails. This often happens when two sister craft cruise so very close alongside of each other.
"Do not let us be nervous, Humphrey," the elder brother went on kindly. "It is the simplest thing in the world, I dare say, when you come to do it. Love finds out a way."
"When I was in Rome——" Humphrey said, casting his thoughts backwards thirty years.