His face fell. "I know: I mean nothing else. What have you to say to me then?"
"Say? Haven't I said enough? Confound you, it's your turn to say things now."
"I thought I had said a good deal. O, I am ready to make my submission, if it will do any good. Imagine the rest, can't you? Don't be playing your games on me now, Bob."
There was a tone of pathos in this: I took a good look at him, and saw that he was doing the contrite as well as I could expect. He will do it better without a middleman when he gets the chance; he'll hardly lapse into the other style again soon. All I have to do is to secure her position meanwhile.
"Well, what comes next? I believe I am on the witness-stand now."
"Tell me about Her, Bob."
"She is changed. Of old, one never knew what to expect of her. Now she is different. No stale customs about her, my boy."
"'Nor custom stale her infinite variety,' I suppose you mean. Yes, so I found—but that was my own fault. Some might prefer your version. But you don't imply—"
"No, I don't. You must find out for yourself about that. I thought you knew that she is chary of her confidences, and that none of us is given to seeking them. She has mentioned your name once in all this time, and then to say that you and I were great clumsy things—which is true; measurably of me, of you most eminently."
"What chance is there for me then?" He was discouraged again. Jim is so foolish; he gets exalted and depressed on the slightest provocation. Perhaps I was like that once, but it was long ago.