Involuntarily and almost unconsciously he extended to her the ordinary courtesies that man instinctively offers to woman.
As she reached the table, she glanced up at him, and something of the pleasure died out of her face.
"You look tired," she said, softly.
He smiled.
"Does that disappoint you ?" His tone confused her.
"Oh no! No!" Then she colored slightly and glanced at him again.

"Why do you ask ?" "Because it is the way of humanity to refuse any common weakness to its leaders--spiritual or temporal." Again a wave of color crossed her skin.

"But surely--" "Surely what ?" She glanced away; then, seeming to gather up her courage, she looked back at him.
"I mean," she said, slowly, "that some people are so strong that they may be allowed to have anything--" "Even weaknesses--" Once more he smiled.

It was significant how, gradually and indisputably, the tone of teacher had dropped out of his conversation.

Neither could have told the date on which the change had occurred--perhaps neither was conscious that it had even taken place.
But the fact remained that, with her, he no longer felt compelled to hold aloof; that, with her, he had discarded the allegorical manner of speech, and had begun to show himself as he naturally was.
"Even weaknesses ?" he said again, as she made no attempt to answer.
At the words her eyes once more met his.
"Yes," she said, with new resolution--"yes, even weaknesses.