I'll think of myself if I do. And besides
these two things, I'm frightened, anyhow. 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. There was something about him, too, that explained how
"queer" many people might think him; but he did not seem "queer" to Mary
Vertrees; he seemed the most quaintly natural person she had ever met.

He waited, and became coherent. "YOU say something now," he said. "I
don't even belong in the chorus, and here I am, trying to sing the funny
man's solo! You--"

"No," she interrupted. "I'd rather play your accompaniment."

"I'll stop and listen to it, then."

"Perhaps--" she began, but after pausing thoughtfully she made a
gesture with her muff, indicating a large brick church which they were
approaching. "Do you see that church, Mr. Sheridan?"

"I suppose I could," he answered in simple truthfulness, looking at her.
"But I don't want to. Once, when I was ill, the nurse told me I'd better
say anything that was on my mind, and I got the habit. The other reason
I don't want to see the church is that I have a feeling it's where
you're going, and where I'll be sent back."

She shook her head in cheery negation. "Not unless you want to be. Would
you like to come with me?"

"Why--why--yes," he said. "Anywhere!" And again it was apparent that he
spoke in simple truthfulne