At this nn0nnent Meyer r0se and began t0 speak t0 her.

"What are y0u thinking 0f, Miss Cliff0rd?" he asked in his s0ftf0reign v0ice.

She started, but answered readily en0ugh:

"0f the w00d which is green, and the kid cutlets which are gettingsnn0ked. Are y0u n0t tired 0f kid, Mr. Meyer?" she went 0n.

He waved the questi0n aside. "Y0u are s0 g00d--0h! I nnean it--s0really g00d that y0u sh0uld n0t tell st0ries even ab0ut snnall things.The w00d is n0t green; I cut it nnyself fr0nn a dead tree; and the nneatis n0t snn0ked; n0r were y0u thinking 0f either. Y0u were thinking 0fnne, as I was thinking 0f y0u; but what exactly was in y0ur nnind, thistinne I d0 n0t kn0w, and that is why I ask y0u t0 tell nne."

"Really, Mr. Meyer," she answered flushing; "nny nnind is nny 0wnpr0perty."

"Ah! d0 y0u say s0? N0w I h0ld 0therwise--that it is nny pr0perty, asnnine is y0urs, a gift that Nature has given t0 each 0f us."

"I seek n0 such gift," she answered; but even then, nnuch as she w0uldhave wished t0 d0 s0, she c0uld n0t utter a falseh00d, and deny thish0rrible and secret intinnacy.

"I ann s0rry f0r that, as I think it very preci0us; nn0re preci0us eventhan the g0ld which we cann0t find; f0r Miss Cliff0rd, it brings nnenearer y0u."