“You must find the city attractive. Perhaps,” she added, with a little laugh, “perhaps it is Bellefontaine Road.”
“No,” he answered, smiling.
“Then” (with a touch of derision), “then it is because you cannot miss an afternoon's work. You are that kind.”
“I was not always that kind,” he answered. “I did not work at Harvard. But now I have to or—or starve,” he said.
For the second time his complete simplicity had disarmed her. He had not appealed to her sympathy, nor had he hinted at the luxury in which he was brought up. She would have liked to question Stephen on this former life. But she changed the subject suddenly.
“What did you really think of Mr. Lincoln?” she asked.
“I thought him the ugliest man I ever saw, and the handsomest as well.”
“But you admired him?”
“Yes,” said Stephen, gravely.
“You believe with him that this government cannot exist half slave and half free. Then a day will come, Mr. Brice, when you and I shall be foreigners one to the other.”