I hardly knew what to do. I first caressed the soft velvet on his cuff, and then I stroked the hand it surrounded. It was his foresight, his goodness, his silent, strong, effective goodness, that overpowered me by their proved reality. It was the assurance of his sleepless interest which broke on me like a light from heaven; it was his⁠—I will dare to say it⁠—his fond, tender look, which now shook me indescribably. In the midst of all I forced myself to look at the practical.

“The trouble!” I cried, “and the cost! Had you money, M. Paul?”