It was some comfort to Thane to hear her say it,--he had been so forcibly
of that opinion himself all along; but he allowed the admission to pass.

"It must have been a hard journey for you," he exerted himself to say,
speaking in a surface voice, while his thoughts were sinking test-pits
through layers of crusted consciousness into depths of fiery nature
underneath.

She answered in the same perfunctory way: "You have been very kind; uncle
has depended on you so much. Your advice and help have been everything to
him."

He took her up with needless probity: "Whatever you do, don't thank me!
It's bad enough to have Mr. Withers heaping coals of fire on my head. He
gives me the place always, in regard to his son, of an intimate friend;
which I never was, and God knows I never claimed to be! He took it for
granted, somehow,--perhaps because of my letters at first, though any brute
would have done as much at a time like that! Afterwards I would have set
him right, but I was afraid of thrusting back the friendly imputation in
his face. He credits me with having been this and that of a godsend to
his son, when as a fact we parted, that last time, not even good friends.
Perhaps you can forgive me for saying it? You see how I am placed!"

This iron apology which some late scruple had ground out of Thane seemed to
command Daphne's deepest attention. She gave it a moment's silence, then
she said, "There is nothing that hurts one, I think, like being unable to
feel as people take for granted one must and ought to feel." But her home
application of it gave a slight deflection to Thane's meaning which he
firmly corrected.