made us friends as months of ordinary living never would have made us."
"Yes, you're right in that," she answered. He knew what she was expecting him to say.
"Well, it's about Dunbar." He could feel her hand jump in his. "He loves you so much—so terribly. He isn't a man, I should think, to say very much about his feelings. I've only known him for an hour or two, and he wouldn't have said anything to me if he hadn't had to. But from the little he did say I could see what he feels. You're in luck to have a man like that in love with you."
She took her hand out of his, then, very quietly but very stiffly, answered:
"But I've known him all my life, you know."
"That's just why I'm speaking about him," Harkness answered.
"It's rather strange to have the friend of your life explained to you by some one who has known him only for an hour or two." She laughed a little angrily.
"But that's just why I'm speaking," he answered. "When you've known some one all your life you can't see them clearly. That's why one's own family always knows so little about one. You can't see the wood for the trees. In the first minutes a stranger sees more. I don't say that I know Dunbar as well as you do—I only say that I probably see things in him that you don't see."
