"
All the time, underneath the flow of his level words, there trembled the
sub-note of a barely controlled emotion. The man's eyes were like fire.
His cigarette had gone out. He lit another with restless, twitching
fingers.
"Words, at any rate, can do me no harm," I said encouragingly. "Go on! I
should like to hear what you have to say."
"Words," he exclaimed, "bring knowledge, and with knowledge comes all the
majesty or the despair of life. One does not need to be a student of
character to know that you are a contented man. You are well off. You
have a beautiful home, you are a sportsman, your days are well-ordered,
life itself slips easily by for you. You have none of the wanderer's
discontent, none of the passionate heart longings of the man who has
lifted even the corner of the veil to see what lies beyond. If I speak,
all this may be changed to you. Why should I do it?"
His words stirred me. The eloquence of real conviction trembled in his
tone. I felt some answering spark of excitement creep into my own blood.
"Let me hear what you have to say, at all events!" I exclaimed.
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