As he seated himself, he took one swift look at Barnes’ face, but he soon forgot whatever it was he had observed a second ago. He had more vital things in mind than the passing mood of a prodigal.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he explained. “Somehow the fact of having spoken to you made all the things I’ve been merely dreaming all this while seem intensely real.”
“I wouldn’t let them be too real until—I had spoken to her.”
“I know,” Langdon answered quickly, “I don’t wish to presume. But a man isn’t responsible for his unbidden thoughts, is he?”
“Who is?” asked Barnes.
“No one. No one—on earth.”
“But every man has to stand for himself—the consequences of his thinking.”
“I’m willing to do that. But—well, I don’t suppose you realize how big a part a woman plays in work of my sort.”
“I think I do.”
“She’s the very life of it.”