“You have n't seen him for a long time?” she asked hesitatingly.
“Not for a long time.”
“You must have been very lonely.”
“I have had Aline—and Connie Deering—and my work.”
“Are they sufficient for you?”
“Any human love a man gets he can make fill his life. It's like the grain of mustard-seed.”
Norma felt a thrill of admiration. Not a tone in his voice betrayed complaint, reproach, or bitterness. Instead, he sounded the note of thanksgiving for the love bestowed upon him, of faith in the perfect ordering of the world. She glanced at him, and felt that she had wronged him. No matter what was the solution of the mystery, she knew him to be a sweet-souled man, wonderfully steadfast.
“Your old way,” she replied with a smile, sitting down and motioning him to a chair beside her. “Do you remember that we first met in this very room? You have not changed. Have I?”
“No,” he said gravely, “you were always beautiful, without and within. I told you that then, if you remember. Perhaps, now, you are a little truer to yourself.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, somewhat bitterly.