been laughing at him. Hubert felt very unimportant and outside the know.
"Drink up," he commanded in an effort to prove that he really was somebody.
"Oh, sooner or later. Not just now. I'll get tight and start throwing things."
"Is that what you do when you drink too much?"
"Sure."
"Well, I don't mind. I'm strong enough to stop you or I'll pay for anything you break. How's that?"
"That's fine." She was laughing again. Not uproariously as before, but enough to alarm Hubert.
"Say," he said, hoping to curb her laughter. "What's your name? I didn't get it when May said it."
"Lillian Cory."
"Great. I'll call you Lil."
"I can't say that I care for that. It sounds kind of saloonish."
"Do you think so? My mother's name was Lily and everybody called her Lil."
"Guess I made a social error."
"Oh, no," he insisted generously. "I'm not like that. I always say that a guy that's sensitive has a guilty conscience."
"Well, I'm sensitive."
"You are not."
"Honest, I'm terribly sensitive. The least thing hurts my feelings."
She was joking. He could tell by the way she smiled at him that she didn't mean it.
"You're a great little kidder, aren't you?"
