Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. "Been to those places?" "No. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead.
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