"
"Only wonder at me?"
"I don't even say that."
"No; but of course you must wonder at me."
Julian spoke almost wistfully, and as if he wanted Valentine to sweep
away the suggestion. Last night they had been comrades. To-day, in the
light and in the calm of afternoon, Valentine seemed much more remote,
and Julian felt for the first time a sense of degradation. He was
uneasily conscious that he might have fallen in Valentine's esteem. But
Valentine reassured him.
"I don't wonder at you, either, Julian; I simply envy you, and
metaphorically sit at your feet."
"That's absurd."
"Not quite; and I may not always be sitting there, for I believe I have
really got a little bit of your soul. Last night I seemed to feel it
stirring within me, and I liked its personality."
"You did seem different last night," Julian said, looking at Valentine
with a keen interest. "Can it be possible that those sittings of ours
have really had any effect?"
"On me they have; not on you. You haven't caught my coldness, but I have
gained something of your warmth. Doesn't that perhaps show that mine was,
after all, the wrong nature?"
"I don't know," Julian said doubtfully; "you look the same."
"Do I? Exactly?"
Valentine spoke with a sort of whimsical defiance, as if almost daring
Julian to answer, Yes.
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