"May not that prove that I know too much?"
"I don't see how. Cynicism is of superficial growth. Deep knowledge makes one grave and compassionate. The painter knew life who gave a smirk to the fool and sadness to the sage."
"But it is to be expected of a man who has sounded this passion to its bottom that he should ridicule the belief in its depth, when he knows it to be shallow."
"Give me leave to push your metaphor. If you speak of yourself, you probably got among the shoals, and inferred from your soundings that the deep was everywhere shallow."
He gave one of his shrugs and sat silent. I took out my cigar-case and held it open to him. He declined with a wave of his hand. I glanced at his face; it was hard and angry.
"Martelli," said I, "you are too sensitive. What has vexed you?"
"How am I sensitive, Sir?" he asked, growing a shade pale.
"I cannot tell you how you are sensitive," I replied, stirred a little by the suppressed irritation of his voice; "but I think I can guess the cause of your vexation."
"Pray tell me, Sir."
"You think I am neglecting you for Mrs. Fraser?"