"
"Do you, indeed? Perhaps you think it's pleasant for me, after
I've opened my heart to a stranger, to have him forced on me as an
acquaintance!"
From the depths of those limpid eyes welled up a little film of
vexation.
"O Lord! Don't do that!" he implored. "I didn't mean--I'm a bear--
a pig--a--a--a scarab--I'm anything you choose. Only don't do
that!"
"I'm not doing anything."
"Of course you're not. That's fine! As for your secrets, I dare
say I wouldn't know you again if I saw you."
"Oh, wouldn't you?" she cried in quite another tone.
"Quite likely not. These glasses, you see. They make things look
quite queer."
"Or if you heard me?" she challenged.
"Ah, well, that's different. But I forget quite easily--even
things like voices."
She leaned forward, her hands in her lap, her eyes upon the
goggled face before her.
"Then take them off."
"What? My glasses?"
"Take them off!"
"Wh--wh--why should I?"
"So that you can see me better."
"I don't want to see you better."
"Yes, you do. I'm much more interesting than a scarab."
"But I know about scarabs and I don't know about--about--"
"Girls.
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