"Stewart, you're not helping me much, staring at me and popping those noes and yesses at me! You make me feel like—but, honestly, I'm not! I don't intend to seem like that!"
"Eh?"
"Why, like an opinionated lecturer, laying down the law of conduct to you!
I don't mean to do all the talking."
"You'd better, Lana—for the present," he advised, seriously; "If you have something to say to me, take care and not let me get started on what I want to say to you."
She flushed. She drew away from him slightly. In her apprehensiveness she hurried on for her own protection. "I hoped you were coming back just now, Stewart, and put out your hand to me as your friend, a good pal who had given sensible advice, and say to me, 'Lana, you have used your wits to good advantage while you have been out and about in the world, and your suggestions to me are all right.' Aren't you going to say so, Stewart?"
"As I understand it, putting all you said to me awhile back in that plain language we have agreed on, you tell me that I'm missing my opportunities, have gone to sleep down here in Marion, am allowing myself to be everlastingly tied up by petty business details that keep me away from real enjoyment of a bigger and better life, and that there's not the least need of my spending my best years in that fashion."
"You state it bluntly, but that is the gist of it!"
"Yes, I was blunt. I'm going to be even more blunt! What do I get out of this prospective, bigger life, Lana?" He drew a deep breath. "Do I get—you?"
"Stewart, hush! Wait!" He had spread his hands to her appealingly. "I am talking to you as your friend—I'm talking of your business, your outlook. I must say something further to you!"
He set as firm a grip on his emotions as he had on his anger earlier in the evening when Krylovensky's hand had dealt him a blow. Her demeanor had thrust him away effectually. The fire died in his eyes. "Go on, Lana! I have promised to allow you to have your say. And, once I start, only a 'Yes!' can stop me."