"Don't tell me anything dreadful," she cried, stopping her ears. "I know it must be something awful."
He waited for her to unstop her ears, which she did very soon, and then he spoke, but on another subject. She replied listlessly, leaning her head on the back of the sofa. He told her about his church and she yawned. He had been delighted to see her in the congregation, and she yawned again. "I thought you were going to tell me about that woman," she said.
"But you stopped your ears."
"And don't you know that when a woman stops her ears it's the time when she wants to hear?"
"I didn't know that."
"You didn't? Then you needn't tell me anything."
"Yes, I believe I ought to tell you—only you."
"Why only me?" she asked, her eyes half closed.
"I don't know, but—"
"Then, why did you say only me?"