I hope I don't hurt you, father ...

only that's what you want, isn't it ...

to have it out quite plainly?
..." His father, still very gently and hesitating as though he found it difficult to catch the words that he wished (his voice had still the remoteness of some one speaking, who was far from them both), said: "You'll think it odd, Martin, when you know how often I have to preach and speak in public, that I should find it hard to talk--but I never, with any man alone, could find words easily.

I know so little.

It is God's punishment for some selfish nervousness and shyness in me, that even now when I am an old man I cannot speak as one man to another.
There was once, I remember, a young man who had heard me preach and was moved by my words and begged to see me in private.