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"
'
That
favourite
subject
,
Myself
.
"
'
He
squinted
at
the
wall
.
"
'
The
favourite
subject
,
Myself
.
"
'
"
I
understand
that
one
,
"
said
Mildred
.
"
But
Clarisse
's
favourite
subject
was
n't
herself
.
It
was
everyone
else
,
and
me
.
She
was
the
first
person
in
a
good
many
years
I
've
really
liked
.
She
was
the
first
person
I
can
remember
who
looked
straight
at
me
as
if
I
counted
.
"
He
lifted
the
two
books
.
"
These
men
have
been
dead
a
long
time
,
but
I
know
their
words
point
,
one
way
or
another
,
to
Clarisse
.
"
Outside
the
front
door
,
in
the
rain
,
a
faint
scratching
.
Montag
froze
.
He
saw
Mildred
thrust
herself
back
to
the
wall
and
gasp
.
"
Someone
--
the
door
--
why
does
n't
the
door
--
voice
tell
us
--
"
I
shut
it
off
.
"
Under
the
door-sill
,
a
slow
,
probing
sniff
,
an
exhalation
of
electric
steam
.
Mildred
laughed
.
"
It
's
only
a
dog
,
that
's
what
!
You
want
me
to
shoo
him
away
?
"
"
Stay
where
you
are
!
"
