"Without love there cannot be life," he said at last; and fixing his wistful gaze on Hilary, asked: "Does she love another?"
When Mr. Stone next spoke it was clearly to himself.
"I do not know why I am glad. Do you love another?"
At this question Hilary's eyebrows settled in a frown. "What do you mean by love?" he said.
Mr. Stone did not reply; it was evident that he was reflecting deeply. His lips began to move: "By love I mean the forgetfulness of self. Unions are frequent in which only the sexual instincts, or the remembrance of self, are roused---"
"That is true," muttered Hilary.
Mr. Stone looked up; painful traces of confusion showed in his face.
"We were discussing something."