And, again,
"Oh," just a little blankly. "I wish I hadn't asked that," she
confessed silently to herself, after a moment.
Still, the spirit of reckless experimentalism pressed her onward.
"That's a peril to the scientific mind, you know," she warned.
"Suppose your ideal should come true?"
"It won't," said he comfortably.
Miss Brewster's regrets sensibly mitigated.
"In that case, of course, your career is safe from accident," she
remarked.
He moved out into the open.
"Mr. Beetle Man," she called,
He looked up and saw her with her chin cupped in her hand,
regarding him thoughtfully.
"I'm NOT just a casual acquaintance," she said suddenly. "That is,
if you don't want me to be."
"That's good," was his hearty comment. "I'm glad you like me
better than you did at first."
"Oh, I'm not so sure that I like you, exactly. But I'm coming to
have a sort of respectful curiosity about you. What lies under
that beetle shell of yours, I wonder?" she mused, in a half
breath.
Whether or not he heard the final question she could not tell. He
smiled, waved his hand, and disappeared.
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