I seem to be the subject of what little meaning they possess, and I'd like to change it, but I don't know how.

I haven't any experience in talking, and I don't know how to manage it." "You needn't change the subject on my account, Mr.Sheridan," she said.
"Not even if you really talked about yourself." She turned her face toward him as she spoke, and Bibbs caught his breath; he was pathetically amazed by the look she gave him.

It was a glowing look, warmly friendly and understanding, and, what almost shocked him, it was an eagerly interested look.

Bibbs was not accustomed to anything like that.
"I--you--I--I'm--" he stammered, and the faint color in his cheeks grew almost vivid.
She was still looking at him, and she saw the strange radiance that came into his face.

There was something about him, too, that explained how "queer" many people might think him; but he did not seem "queer" to Mary Vertrees; he seemed the most quaintly natural person she had ever met.
He waited, and became coherent.