"If one longs to rely upon some one else?
If one cannot rely upon one's self ?" The Prophet made no answer.

He stood with one hand resting on the table, his gaze fixed upon the book.
Emboldened by his silence, she approached him by a step.
"I think I could believe--" she murmured.

"I think I could believe--anything, if I might learn it from you." She paused pleadingly; then, as he still stood unresponsive, the color rushed again into her face.
"I--I have been presumptuous," she said.

"I have offended you." Something in her tone, in her charming unaffected humility stung him.
For the first time in his career as Prophet, the blood surged hotly and painfully into his face.
"Do not say that!" he began, impulsively; then he checked himself.

"I am here to teach my People," he added.