I don't
remember talking as much as this more than once or twice in my life.
I suppose it was always in me to do it, though, the first time I met
any one who didn't know me well enough not to listen."
"But you're not really talking to me," said Mary. "You're just
thinking aloud."
"No," he returned, gravely. "I'm not thinking at all; I'm only making
vocal sounds because I believe it's more mannerly. I seem to be the
subject of what little meaning they possess, and I'd like to change
it, but I don't know how. I haven't any experience in talking, and
I don't know how to manage it."
"You needn't change the subject on my account, Mr. Sheridan," she
said. "Not even if you really talked about yourself." She turned
her face toward him as she spoke, and Bibbs caught his breath; he was
pathetically amazed by the look she gave him. It was a glowing look,
warmly friendly and understanding, and, what almost shocked him, it
was an eagerly interested look. Bibbs was not accustomed to anything
like that.
"I--you--I--I'm--" he stammered, and the faint color in his cheeks
grew almost vivid.
She was still looking at him, and she saw the strange radiance
that came into his face.
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