“You mean by that that I’m primarily so solid—!”
“Yes, that till I see you yourself afraid—!”
“Well?”
“Well, I won’t admit that anything isn’t exactly what I was prepared for.”
Mitchy looked with interest into his hat. “Then what is it I’m to ‘leave’ to you?” After which, as she turned away from him with a suppressed sound and said, while he watched her, nothing else, “It’s no doubt natural for you to talk,” he went on, “but I do make you nervous. Good-bye—good-bye.”
She had stayed him, by a fresh movement, however, as he reached the door. “Aggie’s only trying to find out—!”
“Yes—what?” he asked, waiting.
“Why what sort of a person she is. How can she ever have known? It was carefully, elaborately hidden from her—kept so obscure that she could make out nothing. She isn’t now like ME.”
He wonderingly attended. “Like you?”
“Why I get the benefit of the fact that there was never a time when I didn’t know SOMETHING or other, and that I became more and more aware, as I grew older, of a hundred little chinks of daylight.”