"
He then put out his hand to me, and I pressed it in token of my
friendship. My own hand was hot and rough with the heat and sand;
but his was soft and cool almost as a woman's. I thoroughly hate an
effeminate man; but, in spite of a certain womanly softness about
this fellow, I could not hate him. "Yes," I continued, "though
somewhat unused to the melting mood, I also sometimes give forth my
medicinal gums. I don't want to ask you any questions, and, as a
rule, I hate to be told secrets, but if I can be of any service to
you in any matter I will do my best. I don't say this with
reference to the present moment, but think of it before we part."
I looked round at him and saw that he was in tears. "I know that
you will think that I am a weak fool," he said, pressing his
handkerchief to his eyes.
"By no means. There are moments in a man's life when it becomes him
to weep like a woman; but the older he grows the more seldom those
moments come to him. As far as I can see of men, they never cry at
that which disgraces them."
"It is left for women to do that," he answered.
"Oh, women! A woman cries for everything and for nothing.
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