His jaw dropped, as well it might. I knew that for a moment he was wondering whether I had taken leave of my senses.
I repeated the question. Of course, I no more wanted information about Aerodynamic Resistance than I did about briar pipes and amber beads. It was information about Charles Valentine Smith that I wanted and intended to have.
I date my possession of him from the moment that that look of consternation came into his face. It broke upon me that I had put him into some position that he felt he must immediately explain. Indeed he half rose, as if, having obtained my acquaintance under false pretenses, he must set himself right or leave me.
"Oh, I say, sir!" he broke anxiously out. "Do you mean those Journals and things?"
"That's what I had in my mind. Especially the blue-covered ones."
"Oh lord! You don't suppose I can make head or tail of _those_!"
"Not make head or tail of them? But I've seen you reading them."
He seemed positively sick to extricate himself from my too flattering opinion of him.
"_Me_ understand all _that_! I could kick myself if you think that! Why, that's all designers' stuff--they've got brains, those chaps--shiploads of them--why, I should never have heard of the things but for----" He checked himself.
He was blushing--blushing like a young girl.
"I know," he said. "I feel a most awfully ass. The fact is, sir, I just moon over those things, lose myself in 'em, sort of. I don't know the first thing about 'em. Of course, there are bits here and there--engines and practical flying and all that--I know a bit about that--what I mean to say is, a fellow doesn't want to miss anything--it's hard to explain----"
On the contrary: it was not at all hard to explain. Simply, I had caught him day-dreaming. That vivid color still in his cheeks told me that I had stumbled on a privacy. A young girl approaching womanhood knows these soft _oubliances_, these shy yet hardy excursions of the spirit that lead nowhither and die of their own over-sweetness. It is love of which she dreams; and this was his equivalent. He just "mooned." It was not understanding--he "didn't want to miss anything." His was not a technician's, but a poet's nature. And caught unawares he blushed.