"Your old friend," I said. "I believe you have a sentiment about him."
She looked up at me.
"Scarcely that," she replied gravely, with the literalness that often
characterized her, "but he isn't a person easily forgotten. He may be
queer, one may not agree with his views, but after the experience I had
with him I've never been able to look at him in the way George does, for
instance, or even as father does."
"Or even as I do," I supplied.
"Well, perhaps not even as you do," she answered calmly. "I believe you
once told me, however, that you thought him a fanatic, but sincere."
"He's certainly a fanatic!" I exclaimed.
"But sincere, Hugh-you still think him sincere."
"You seem a good deal concerned about a man you've laid eyes on but
once."
She considered this.
"Yes, it is surprising," she admitted, "but it's true. I was sorry for
him, but I admired him. I was not only impressed by his courage in taking
charge of me, but also by the trust and affection the work-people showed.
He must be a good man, however mistaken he may be in the methods he
employs. And life is cruel to those people."
"Life is-life," I observed. "Neither you nor I nor Krebs is able to
change it."
"Has he come here to practice?" she asked, after a moment.
"Yes. Do you want me to invite him to dinner?" and seeing that she did
not reply I continued: "In spite of my explanation I suppose you think,
because Krebs defended the man Galligan, that a monstrous injustice has
been done."
"That is unworthy of you," she said, bending over her stitch.