"
"Yes, I see that. Of course, I ought not to have asked."
"You ought not to need to ask," Thorndyke replied, with a smile; "you
should put the facts together and reason from them yourself."
While we had been talking I had noticed Thorndyke glance at me
inquisitively from time to time. Now, after an interval of silence, he
asked suddenly:
"Is anything amiss, Berkeley? Are you worrying about your friends'
affairs?"
"No, not particularly; though their prospects don't look very rosy."
"Perhaps they are not quite so bad as they look," said he. "But I am
afraid something is troubling you. All your gay spirits seem to have
evaporated." He paused for a few moments, and then added: "I don't want
to intrude on your private affairs, but if I can help you by advice or
otherwise, remember that we are old friends and that you are my academic
offspring."
Instinctively, with a man's natural reticence, I began to mumble a
half-articulate disclaimer; and then I stopped. After all, why should I
not confide in him? He was a good man and a wise man, full of human
sympathy, as I knew, though so cryptic and secretive in his
professional capacity.
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