For a moment after she had answered his questions, there was strong
emotion in his face, and then it cleared.
He reached out a hand towards her. How eagerly she clasped it! It was
cold, and hers was so warm and firm and kind.
"True friend o' mine!" he said with feeling. "How wonderful it is that
somehow it all doesn't seem to matter so much. I wonder why? I
wonder--Tell me about yourself, about your life," he added abruptly, as
though it had been a question he had long wished to ask. In the tone was
a quiet certainty suggesting that she would not hesitate to answer.
"We have both had big breaks in our lives," he went on. "I know that.
I've lost everything, in a way, by the break in my life, and I've an idea
that you gained everything when the break in yours came. I didn't believe
the story Jethro Fawe told me, but still I knew there was some truth in
it; something that he twisted to suit himself. I started life feeling I
could conquer the world like another Alexander or Napoleon. I don't know
that it was all conceit. It was the wish to do, to see how far this thing
on my shoulders"--he touched his head--"and this great physical
machine"--he touched his breast with a thin hand--"would carry me. I
don't believe the main idea was vicious.
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