MR. BEDFORD MEETS MR. CAVOR
"Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere. I go along this path, through that gate"—he jerked his head over his shoulder—"and round———"
"You don't. You never have been. It's all nonsense. There isn't a way. To-night for instance———"
"Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had already been out just three minutes over the precise half hour, decided there was not time to go round, turned———"
"You always do."
He looked at me, reflected. "Perhaps I do—now I come to think of it. . . . But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"
"Why—this!"
"This?"
"Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise———"
"Making a noise?"
"Like this." I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me and it was evident the buzzing awakened distaste. "Do I do that?" he asked.
"Every blessed evening."
"I had no idea."
He stopped. He regarded me gravely. "Can it be," he said, "that I have formed a habit?"
"Well, it looks like it. Doesn't it?"
He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a puddle at his feet.
"My mind is much occupied," he said. "And you want to know why! Well, sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is
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