The whole trouble with life seemed to her to rise, not from mistaken
theory, but from the lack of consideration with which human beings
treated one another. Happiness, after all, depended so little upon
opinions and so much upon manners.
"Throw yourself into this work, Stephen," she urged. "It is a splendid
opportunity."
He smiled at her in the old boyish way. "An opportunity for what?"
"For--" It was on the tip of her tongue to say "for health"; but she
checked herself, remembering the incurable distaste men have for
calling things by their right names, and replied instead, "an
opportunity for usefulness."
His smile faded, and he turned on her eyes that were almost melancholy,
though the fire of animation still warmed them. "I am interested now. I
care a great deal--but will it last? Haven't I felt this way a hundred
times in the last six months, only to grow indifferent and even bored
within the next few hours?"
She looked at him closely. "Isn't there any feeling--any interest that
lasts with you?"
He hesitated, while a burning colour, like the flush of fever, swept up
to his forehead.
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