“Game—game! You English are always thinking of games.”
“The word does not fit; I should not have used it. It is more than a game.”
Manon looked at her knees, possessed by a feeling of gentleness and humility. She knew now that she had been right about Brent, utterly right in her reading of his simple and sensitive character. He was no ordinary man, nor was his inspiration the inspiration of the ordinary man. Brent gave. Most men take.
“It is very strange,” she said, “that you should be so good to me. I think—somehow—that doing good things is as pleasant to you as the tobacco you smoke in your pipe. Is it not so, monsieur?”
He nodded.
“Perhaps there’s reason in it.”
“I am very lucky.”
And then she added,
“How good to be able to trust you—with everything! It is like feeling that God is near.”