"I have read," I answered absently, "that a benevolent man should allow himself a few faults to keep his friends in countenance. I mustn't be everything perfect, you know."
"Don't restrain yourself in the least on my account."
"You are my sole trouble," I said, playing a black seven on a red eight. She looked off the table as I glanced up at her.
I am a patient enough man, I believe, and I hope meek and lowly, but I saw suddenly that not all the beatitudes should be taken without reservation.
"I repeat," I said, for she had not spoken, "your presence is the most troubling thing I know. It keeps me back in my studies."
"There's a red five for that black six," she observed.
"Thank you!" and I made the play.
"Then you're not a Sannyasin yet?"
"I've nearly taken the first degree. Sometimes after hard practice I can succeed in not hating anything for as much as an hour."
I dealt eight more cards and became, to outward seeming, I hope, absorbed in the new aspect of the game.
"Perseverance will be rewarded," she said kindly. "You can't expect to learn it all at once."
"You might try not to make it harder for me."
Again had I been a third person of fair discernment, I believe I should have sworn that I caught in
