Toward that angle,--and with all the delicacy and technical skill possessed by him,--he started a cautious exploration of her character as a “type,” including that untouched and undiscovered side which comprehended the impulses, material motives, emotional passions, popularly attributed to the human heart in contradistinction to phenomena purely intellectual. Several letters came from her without any notice being taken of his investigations. Apparently she either possessed no such side to her character or else she did not understand him. Anyway, there was no response, and therefore no revelation of herself to satisfy his professional curiosity. One thing seemed to become clearer and clearer; he had not appealed to this girl except intellectually. Of lesser sentiment in her there was not a hint or a trace in all her correspondence--only ardent gratitude for material kindness and passionate response to a generous mind that had offered itself to a starved one. He had concluded that his subtle and mischievous epistolary philandering was not destined to reveal any dormant inclinations to response in Eris--much less any natural aptitude or acquired skill. And he was debating in his leisure moments whether or not such total unconsciousness was normal or otherwise, when out of a serene sky came a letter from her in reply to his last and cleverest experiment in reactions: “Dear Mr. Annan: “Until rather lately it never occurred to me to analyse my feeling of friendship for you. “I don’t know exactly how to. I have tried. It confuses me. “I like _everything_ you say. I didn’t realise I was silent concerning any phase of our friendship. But I had not thought of your having any liking for me outside of your natural kindness to me. Or that I had any personal charm for you; or that you might like to be with me even if we do not say a word to each other. “That idea of companionship had not entered my head. But now that you have spoken of it--or your letters, lately, have seemed to suggest it--I am venturing to reply that, just being with you is a pleasure to me ... just to walk with you and remain mentally idle, I mean. I realised it only when you spoke of it. “Friendship seems to be very complex. You must remember that this is my first intelligent friendship. It quite overshadows all other associations. So I really do not know just where my feeling for you could fail to include all the best that is in me. “I’d like to talk to you about it. If only you were here! Do you know that if it were not for your letters I’d be unhappy here, in spite of my beloved profession? “Is this what you would like to have me say to you? “You drew a picture of yourself as a brain on two legs; and of me in academic cap and gown, with a silly expression on my face, clasping both hands in ecstasy before you. Out of your brain comes a balloon with something written in Latin--‘Animus est in patinis.’