"Now talk!" she in turn commanded, with the sweeping imperialism she sometimes manifested toward a chance companion.
"I refuse. It is your turn."
"How you like to put on the mask of silence! Do you bolt the door to everyone but the doctor and Judge Latimer?"
"Thoughts are hard things to express, unless one forgets himself, and they come spontaneously."
"Go ahead and forget yourself, then!"
"You are inexorable," laughing. "Your demand makes me think of an Indian Council. Of course, you know that when they meet to discuss problems, they sit silent for hours. The avowed purpose of conferring paralyzes their tongues, apparently, as you have paralyzed mine. If I ever had an idea I could not produce it now."
"The Quakers have a prettier custom. They sit in silence till the spirit moves. I will be the spirit that moves you;" and so adroitly did she continue that unconsciously the man spoke of more serious things—his likings, his beliefs.
"Why did you become an American?" she asked at length, the question that had often puzzled her.
"My mother was an American." His voice took a note of tenderness which Winifred remembered long. "But when I left the service it was with no thought of choosing this as my country. I had no desire to return to England, however, and the chances for business seemed greater on this side of the line."
The girl's deep eyes gazed directly into his with flattering intentness.