"Then in his knowing her there was something to—to give away."
"Then what about your knowing her yourself?"
Since she was pressing the question I decided not to spare her.
"I didn’t wait for her at a street corner as a form of introduction."
Expecting the question, "And did he?" I was surprised that she should make it. "And would it be discreet to inquire what your form of introduction was?"
"I was presented to her in all propriety by a blind boy named Drinkwater, you heard her mention him, who was my cabin-mate on the _Auvergne_. He and Miss Blair and I, with some other people, happened to sit at the same table."
"And have you no interest in her besides that?"
"Yes: she’s been a very good friend to me. I haven’t seen her for two years and more; but that was my fault."
"That if you had no interest in her she had an interest in you, strong enough to—to impel her to make my acquaintance."
"With some good end in view, presumably."
"With the end in view of giving me the information that—that she knew Dick."
"And do you call that taking an interest in me?"
Once more I declined to give my impressions. Where Stroud was concerned I had nothing to say. Now that Vio knew something of the truth concerning him I wished not to influence her in any way. The matter seemed oddly far away from me. The tie between Vio and myself being broken in fact, as it soon would be in law, I preferred to leave the subject of my successor where it was.
"Why do you say," she began after a brief pause, "that this is not a life for you any more?"
"For one reason, because I don’t like it."
"Oh!" She was not expecting this reply and it displeased her. "What’s the matter with it?"
"For me, everything. But it’s nothing that you would understand."
"I suppose I could understand if you explained to me."
"No, you couldn’t. Or, rather, I couldn’t. The language isn’t coined that would give me the words to tell you. It’s not the facts of the life I dislike; it’s the spirit of it."
"Is there anything wrong with the spirit of it?"
"I’m not saying so. I merely dislike it for myself. For me it’s not a real life any more. I belong to—to simpler people with less complex ideas."
"About honor for one thing." In my goings and comings round the room I paused in front of her. "Among my friends, my real friends, you can be a coward or a deserter, just as you could be a murderer or a thief, and no one would pass judgment upon you."