I bored him. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. The lad looked alarmed. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. “Odd!” she said. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. There was no need of sowing suspicion when he wasn't really certain there were grounds for it. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
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