"But I know your eyes."
"No no! I was drunk, and did not truly see it anyway. Even if true, why should it mean anything? Why should it stick in my mind?"
"That of course is the question."
"Now what do you mean?"
"What is it in Shawn that should make the thought trouble you?... What in fact do you know about Mr. Shawn?"
"Why—why, he is a man of pleasant conversation—mostly. Of—of poetic spirit, wouldn't you say? Possessed of some learning too. He hath read Physiologus."
"That is learning? And now again you're holding something back, but I am no Malachi Derry."
"'Deed you're not, but what are you? Why do you press me so? Like a judge?"
"Not to judge you, certainly. You've seen something in Shawn to disturb you. I wish to know what it was, because—because I'm frightened, Ben; because what touches thee touches me...."
"Something at that—house. He spoke quite cruelly to the women there, poor sluts, as if he hated them, and for no cause. I don't know—I know you don't like him, Ru, I can feel it. Let's not speak of him."