He himself, either unconscious of, or
indifferent to her close scrutiny, had simply the air of a man
possessed of an inexhaustible fund of patience.
"Wingrave," she said quietly, "I think that the time has gone by when
I was afraid of you."
He turned slightly towards her, but he did not speak.
"I am possessed," she continued, "at present, of a more womanly
sentiment. I am curious."
"Ah!" he murmured, "you were always a little inclined that way."
"I am curious about you," she continued. "You are, comparatively
speaking, young, well-looking enough, and strong. Your hand is firmly
planted upon the lever which moves the world. What are you going to
do?"
"That," he said, "depends upon many things."
"You may be ambitious," she remarked. "If so, you conceal it
admirably. You may be devoting your powers to the consummation of
vengeance against those who have treated you ill. There are no signs
of that, either, at present."
"We have excellent authority," he remarked, "for the statement that a
considerable amount of satisfaction is derivable from the exercise of
that sentiment."
"Perhaps," she answered, "but the pursuit of vengeance for wrongs of
the past is the task of a fool. Now, you are not a fool. You carry
your life locked up within you as a strong man should. But there are
always some who may look in through the windows. I should like to be
one."
"An empty cupboard," he declared.
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