He gave it to his friend, and ate, pleasantly, while Orange glanced down the page. His soul's wish was to be left alone. The effort of forcing himself--not to affect but honestly to feel--an interest in Reckage's conversation had proved successful. He had indeed put aside his own thoughts, and followed, with the exaggerated earnestness of a mind determined on self-sacrifice, every word his companion had uttered. The spirit invisible wears the laurel of mental victories, but the body has to bear the exhaustion, the scars, and the soreness. He was tired, but he stirred himself again to consider Sara's note. In the course of that year she had written several letters to Orange--letters about books, new pictures, and new music. Once she had given him a little song of her own composition as something of which she "desired to hear no more for ever." The song was sentimental, and he locked it away, wondering at the time whether she really had an unfortunate affection for Lord Reckage. But in reading her note that evening he decided against his original fear. Women did not write in that strain to men whom they loved, or had ever loved ... even passably well. He returned it to the owner with this comment--
"A woman, you know, is like your shadow: run away from her and she follows you; run after her and she flies from you. That's an old saying. It is true so long as she does not love the man. And when she loves the man--well, then she ceases to be a shadow. She becomes a living thing."
"That is no answer at all. If you could read her heart and whole thought at this moment, what would you see there?"
"Unhappiness," said Robert; "discontent."
Reckage took the little sheet and folded it into his pocket-book.
"That's wonderful," said he, "because the same things are in my mind, too. I wish I could describe my feelings about Agnes. She satisfies the æsthetic side of my nature. But there is another side. And Sara comes nearer to it than she. Mind you, I know my duty in the matter. There are things which one is compelled to do under tremendous penalties. I have chosen, and I must abide by my choice."
Robert looked well at his friend, and saw, in his expression, all that he had known would inevitably, either soon or too late, work to the surface.