“You are surprised,” he said, with intolerable self-possession.  “I cannot wonder.  I remember to have very often thought that there are few forms of sentimentality more absurd than that which deceives a man into the idea that he can with impunity play at being a brother to a young and beautiful woman.  I have always thought so, and I suppose that in whatever remains of my indolent intelligence I think so still.  But intelligence is not always so reliable as instinct.  I am not young enough nor foolish enough either, to propose that we should swear eternal brother-and-sisterhood—­or perhaps I am not old enough, who can tell?  Yet I feel how perfectly safe it would be for either of us.”

The steel had been thrust home, and could go no farther.  Unorna’s unquiet temper rose at his quiet declaration of his absolute security.  The colour came again to her cheek, a little hotly, and though there was a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke, yet her eyes flashed beneath the drooping lids.

“Are you sure it would be safe?” she asked.

“For you, of course there can be no danger possible,” he said, in perfect simplicity of good faith.  “For me—­well, I have said it.  I cannot imagine love coming near me in any shape, by degrees or unawares.  It is a strange defect in my nature, but I am glad of it since it makes this pleasant life possible.”

“And why should you suppose that there is no danger for me?” asked Unorna, with a quick glance and a silvery laugh.  She was recovering her self-possession.

“For you?  Why should there be?  How could there be?  No woman ever loved me, then why should you?  Besides—­there are a thousand reasons, one better than the other.”

“I confess I would be glad to hear a few of them, my friend.  You were good enough just now to call me young and beautiful.  You are young too, and certainly not repulsive in appearance.  You are gifted, you have led an interesting life—­indeed, I cannot help laughing when I think how many reasons there are for my falling in love with you.  But you are very reassuring, you tell me there is no danger.  I am willing to believe.”

“It is safe to do that,” answered the Wanderer with a smile, “unless you can find at least one reason far stronger than those you give.  Young and passably good-looking men are not rare, and as for men of genius who have led interesting lives, many thousands have been pointed out to me.  Then why, by any conceivable chance, should your choice fall on me?”

“Perhaps because I am so fond of you already,” said Unorna, looking away lest her eyes should betray what was so far beyond fondness.  “They say that the most enduring passions are either born in a single instant, or are the result of a treacherously increasing liking.  Take the latter case.  Why is it impossible, for you or for me?  We are slipping from mere liking into friendship, and for all I know we may some day fall headlong from friendship into love.  It would be very foolish no doubt, but it seems to me quite possible.  Do you not see it?”