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"
Where
did
you
get
that
phrase
?
"
I
demanded
,
with
an
abruptness
that
in
turn
startled
her
.
"
What
phrase
?
"
she
asked
.
"
One
small
woman
.
"
"
Is
it
yours
?
"
she
asked
.
"
Yes
,
"
I
answered
.
"
Mine
.
I
made
it
.
"
"
Then
you
must
have
talked
in
your
sleep
,
"
she
smiled
.
The
dancing
,
tremulous
light
was
in
her
eyes
.
Mine
,
I
knew
,
were
speaking
beyond
the
will
of
my
speech
.
I
leaned
toward
her
.
Without
volition
I
leaned
toward
her
,
as
a
tree
is
swayed
by
the
wind
.
Ah
,
we
were
very
close
together
in
that
moment
.
But
she
shook
her
head
,
as
one
might
shake
off
sleep
or
a
dream
,
saying
:
"
I
have
known
it
all
my
life
.
It
was
my
father
's
name
for
my
mother
.
"
"
It
is
my
phrase
too
,
"
I
said
stubbornly
.
"
For
your
mother
?
"
