Some mysterious change in the conditions of the conversation came about unaccountably, causing a laugh both joined in with undisguised cordiality; they might almost be said to have hob-nobbed over a unanimous appreciation of Gwen. Its effect was towards a mellower familiarity--an expurgation of starch, which might even hold good until one of them wrote an order for some more. For this lady and gentleman, however much an interview might soften them, had always hitherto restiffened for the next one. At this exact moment, Mr. Pellew entered on an explanation of his meaning in a lower key, for seriousness; and walked perceptibly nearer the lady. Because a dropped voice called for proximity. "What I meant to say was, that pity for the poor chap's misfortune may have more to do with Gwen's feelings towards him--you understand?--than she herself thinks." "I quite understand. Go on." "If he were to recover his sight outright there would be nothing left to pity him for. Is it not conceivable that she might change altogether?" "She would not admit it, even to herself." "That is very likely--pride and _amour propre_, and that sort of thing! But suppose that he suspected a change?" "I see what you mean." "These affairs are so confoundedly ... ticklish. Heaven only knows sometimes which way the cat is going to jump! It certainly seems to me, though, that the peculiar conditions of this case supply an element of insecurity, of possible disintegration, that does not exist in ordinary everyday life. You must admit that the circumstances are ... are abnormal." "Very. But don't you think, Mr. Pellew, that circumstances very often _are_ abnormal?--more often than not, I should have said. Perhaps that's the wrong way of putting it, but you know what I mean." Mr. Pellew didn't. But he said he did. He recognised this way of looking at the unusual as profound and perspicuous. She continued, reinforced by his approval:--"What I was driving at was that when two young folks are very--as the phrase goes--spooney, they won't admit that peculiar conditions have anything to do with it. They have always been destined for one another by Fate." "How does that apply to Gwen and Torrens?" "Merely that when Mr. Torrens's sight comes back.... What?" "Nothing. I only said I was glad to hear you say _when_, not _if_. Go on." "When his sight comes back--unless it comes back very quickly--they will be so convinced they were intended for one another from the beginning of Time, that they won't credit the accident with any share in the business." "Except as an Agent of Destiny. I think that quite likely. It supplies a reason, though, for not getting his sight back in too great a hurry. How long should you say would be safe?" "I should imagine that in six months, if it is not broken off, it will have become chronic. At present they are rather ... rather ..." "Rather underdone. I see. Well--I don't understand that anyone wants to take them off the hob...."