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"
Hmmm
?
"
He
sounded
as
if
I
had
pulled
him
from
some
other
train
of
thought
.
I
still
didn
’
t
turn
around
.
"
How
often
did
you
come
here
?
"
"
I
come
here
almost
every
night
.
"
I
whirled
,
stunned
.
"
Why
?
"
"
You
’
re
interesting
when
you
sleep
.
"
He
spoke
matter
-
of
-
factly
.
"
You
talk
.
"
"
No
!
"
I
gasped
,
heat
flooding
my
face
all
the
way
to
my
hairline
.
I
gripped
the
kitchen
counter
for
support
.
I
knew
I
talked
in
my
sleep
,
of
course
;
my
mother
teased
me
about
it
.
I
hadn
’
t
thought
it
was
something
I
needed
to
worry
about
here
,
though
.
His
expression
shifted
instantly
to
chagrin
.
"
Are
you
very
angry
with
me
?
"
"
That
depends
!
"
I
felt
and
sounded
like
I
’
d
had
the
breath
knocked
out
of
me
.
He
waited
.
"
On
?
"
he
urged
.
