THE GOLDEN BOWL
with everything so finished and ready. And you won't take me for serious."
She continued to face him as if he really troubled her a little. "Oh you deep old Italians!"
"There you are," he returned—"it's what I wanted you to come to. That's the responsible note."
"Yes," she went on—"if you're 'humble' you must be dangerous." She had a pause while he only smiled; then she said: "I don't in the least want to lose sight of you. But even if I did I shouldn't think it right."
"Thank you for that—it's what I needed of you. I'm sure, after all, that the more you're with me the more I shall understand. It's the only thing in the world I want. I'm excellent, I really think, all round—except that I'm stupid. I can do pretty well anything I see. But I've got to see it first." And he pursued his demonstration. "I don't in the least mind its having to be shown me—in fact I like that better. Therefore it is that I want, that I shall always want, your eyes. Through them I wish to look—even at any risk of their showing me what I mayn't like. For then," he wound up, "I shall know. And of that I shall never be afraid."
She might quite have been waiting to see what he would come to, but she spoke with a certain impatience. "What on earth are you talking about?"
But he could perfectly say: "Of my real honest fear of being 'off' some day, of being wrong, without knowing it. That's what I shall always trust you for—to tell me when I am. No—with you people it's a sense. We haven't got it—not as you have. There-
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