TIMBER
47
"I hope you won't think we're inhospitable," she said, as though it did not matter greatly what he thought, "but this is a busy time of year."
He felt himself flushing. This was dismissal with no opening for argument—and after he had planned to make this girl come to time. He found himself walking toward the stairway, muttering about letters he wanted to write, feeling driven out and inferior and furious. He watched the girl as he ascended. She was sorting papers rapidly and did not even glance at him, John Taylor, who knew all about women and who had dedicated this evening to making her regret that she had patronized him and been indifferent.
