"And so do I. In my cabin I have a long list of things written down in my tablet that I'd like to know about; questions that come to me as I sit looking over the hill into the sky, things Brick doesn't know, and not even Bill Atkins. You going to tell me them there things?"
Bill interposed: "Will you kindly tell me those things?"
"Will you kindly tell me those things?" Lahoma put the revised question as calmly as if she had not suffered correction.
"You see how it is, son," Willock remarked regretfully; "Lahoma keeps pretty close to me, and I'm always a-leading her along the wrong trails, not having laid out an extensive education when I was planning the grounds I calculated to live in. When I got anything to say, I just follows the easiest way, knowing I'll get to the end of it if I talk constant. People in the big world ain't no more natural in talking than in anything else. They builds up fences and arbitrary walls, and is careful to stay right in the middle of the beaten path, and I'm all time keeping Bill busy at putting up the bars after me, so Lahoma will go straight."
"So that's why I'm glad to know you," Lahoma said gravely. "But why did you want to know ME?" She fastened on him her luminous brown eyes, with red lips parted, awaiting the clearing up of this mystery.
Wilfred preserved a solemn countenance, "I've been awfully lonesome, Lahoma, the last two years because, up to that time, I'd lived in a city with friends all about town and no end of gay times—and these last two years, I've been in the terrible desert. You are the first girl I've seen that reminded me of home; when I saw you and knew you were my kind, the way you held yourself and the smile in your eyes—"
Bill interposed: "Don't you forget that binding, young man!"
"Of course not. But I don't know how to tell just what it means to me to be with her—with all of you, I mean—but her especially, because—well, I had so many friends among the girls, back home and—and— It's no use trying to explain; if you've known the horrible lonesomeness of the plains you already understand, and if you don't..."
"I know what you mean," Willock remarked, with a reminiscent sigh.
"Let it not be put in words," Bill persisted. "If a thing can't be expressed, words only mislead. I never knew any good to come of talking about smiles in eyes. There's nothing to it but misleading words."