He continued to look, she feeling it and growing more and more uncomfortable.
"Why did you send for me ?" he asked.
She would have liked to deny or to evade; but neither was possible.

Now that he was before her she recalled his habit of compelling her always to be truthful not only with him but--what was far worse--also with herself.
"Did Arthur tell you I asked him to bring you ?" she said, to gain time.
"No," was his reply.

"But, as soon as he asked me, I knew." It irritated her that this young man who was not at all a "man of the world" should be able so easily to fathom her.

She had yet to learn that "man of the world" means man of a very small and insignificant world, while Dory Hargrave had been born a citizen of the big world, the real world--one who understands human beings, because his sympathies are broad as human nature itself, and his eyes clear of the scales of pretense.

He was an illustration of the shallowness of the talk about the loneliness of great souls.