"Ought I to have expected? Ought I to have known--" he stammered.
"No, you couldn't have known," the Stranger answered. "You're not late.
I knew when you would come."
Wilbraham told me that during these moments he was surrendering himself
to an emotion and intimacy and companionship that was the most
wonderful thing that he had ever known. It was that intimacy and
companionship, he told me, for which all his days he had been
searching. It was the one thing that life never seemed to give; even in
the greatest love, the deepest friendship, there was that seed of
loneliness hidden. He had never found it in man or woman.
Now it was so wonderful that the first thing he said was: "And now
you're going to stay, aren't you? You won't go away at once...?"
"Of course, I'll stay," he answered. "If you want me."
His Visitor was dressed in some dark suit; there was nothing about Him
in any way odd or unusual. His Face was thin and pale, His smile
kindly.
His English was without accent. His voice was soft and very melodious.
But Wilbraham could notice nothing but His Eyes; they were the most
beautiful, tender, gentle Eyes that he had ever seen in any human
being.
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