"Yes, you will. Or I--I'll f-follow you----"
"What?"
"One or the other! We can't help it, I tell you. You don't understand, but I do. And the moment I knew your name was George----"
"What the deuce has that got to do with anything?" he demanded, turning red in spite of his amazement.
"Waves!" she said passionately, "psychic waves! I--somehow--knew that he'd be named George----"
"Who'd be named George?"
"He! The--man... And if I ever--if you ever expect me to--to c-care for a man all over overalls----"
"But I don't--Good Heavens!--I don't expect you to care for--for overalls----"
"Then why do you wear them?" she asked in tremulous indignation.
The young man, galvanized, sprang from his chair and began running about, taking little, short, distracted steps. "Either," he said, "I need mental treatment immediately, or I'll wake up toward morning.... I--don't know what you're trying to say to me. I came here to--to p-paste----"