''
She looked coldly down at him. ``You have changed since I last
saw you,'' she said. ``I don't mean the change in your manner
toward me. I mean something deeper. I've often heard that
politics makes a man deteriorate. You must be careful, Victor.''
``I must think about that,'' said he. ``Thank you for warning
me.''
His prompt acceptance of her insincere criticism made her
straightway repentant. ``No, it's I that have changed,'' she
said. ``Oh, I'm horrid!--simply horrid. I'm in despair about
myself.''
``Any one who thinks about himself is bound to be,'' said he
philosophically. ``That's why one has to keep busy in order to
keep contented.'' He halted. ``I can save a mile and half an
hour by crossing these fields.'' He held the wounded bird in one
hand very carefully while he lifted his hat.
She colored deeply. ``Victor,'' she said, ``isn't there any way
that you and I can be friends?''
``Yes,'' replied he. ``As I told you before, by becoming one of
us. Those are impossible terms, of course. But that's the only
way by which we could be of use to each other. Jane, if I,
professing what I do profess, offered to be friends with you on
any other terms, you'd be very foolish not to reject my offer.
For, it would mean that I was a fraud. Don't you see that?''
``Yes,'' she admitted. ``But when I am with you I see everything
exactly as you represent it.''
``It's fortunate for you that I'm not disposed to take advantage
of that--isn't it?'' said he, with good-humored irony.
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