This is hard on you, she said. I'm sorry. You didn't come here to listen to a lecture.
Oh, that's all right, Byron assured her. I'm used to talk like this, only I haven't heard much of it lately. Since I've been going to college I'm sort of out of step with it, that's all. The boys I know at home, most of them, get on all right, he added frowning. Who was that fellow who was doing all the talking?
You mean Dick Sill?
Yes. Disgruntled, isn't he? What does he do?
He is a secretary for somebody or other downtown. He is disgruntled. He says he's going white.
Byron stared ahead of him. I couldn't do that. Could you?
No, I couldn't.
I wonder why they didn't ask us to go along with them to the cabaret?
They're engaged, Mary replied coldly. I suppose they want to be alone.
Engaged! I see. I don't wonder. . . . But the other fellow went along.
Wouldn't you like a cup of coffee? Mary asked him.
I'd love it, and I'll help you make it.
Pressing the burning tip of his cigarette against the surface of an ash-tray, he followed her into the kitchen.
It's a great place you've got here.
