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           "Areyougoingtoanswerthequestion?"

           Ilookeddown."Yes."

           "Yes,youaregoingtoanswer,oryes,youreallythinkthat?"Hewasirritatedagain.

           "Yes,Ireallythinkthat."Ikeptmyeyesdownonthetable,myeyestracingthepatternofthefauxwoodgrainsprintedonthelaminate.Thesilencedraggedon.Istubbornlyrefusedtobethefirsttobreakitthistime,fightinghardagainstthetemptationtopeekathisexpression.

           Finallyhespoke,voicevelvetsoft."You’rewrong."

           Iglanceduptoseethathiseyesweregentle.

           "Youcan’tknowthat,"Idisagreedinawhisper.Ishookmyheadindoubt,thoughmyheartthrobbedathiswordsandIwantedsobadlytobelievethem.

           "Whatmakesyouthinkso?"Hisliquidtopazeyeswerepenetrating-tryingfutilely,Iassumed,toliftthetruthstraightfrommymind.

           Istaredback,strugglingtothinkclearlyinspiteofhisface,tofindsomewaytoexplain.AsIsearchedforthewords,Icouldseehimgettingimpatient;frustratedbymysilence,hestartedtoscowl.Iliftedmyhandfrommyneck,andhelduponefinger.

           "Letmethink,"Iinsisted.Hisexpressioncleared,nowthathewassatisfiedthatIwasplanningtoanswer.Idroppedmyhandtothetable,movingmylefthandsothatmypalmswerepressedtogether.Istaredatmyhands,twistinganduntwistingmyfingers,asIfinallyspoke.

           "Well,asidefromtheobvious,sometimes..."Ihesitated."Ican’tbesure-Idon’tknowhowtoreadminds-butsometimesitseemslikeyou’retryingtosaygoodbyewhenyou’resayingsomethingelse.