"I'm terribly afraid I forgot to order— Would you mind awfully if we had nice lovely delicious baked beans?"
"Fine!" said Joe, who had had them for the past three nights.
After the beans and blackberries and two cups of tepid mud and water, Joe settled at his desk with a handful of papers.
"Joey, don't work to-night."
"I must. This means a little extra, and fixing up the house cost so much more than I expected."
"Don't work to-night! I've been so lonely all day."
"Now be a good child and keep quiet."
"You're the most selfish man I ever knew. You never think of me!"
"Don't be silly."
His papers rustled; she yawned on the sofa, sighing now and then.
"Evelyn, don't you ever like to read?"
"I'm sick of reading! I'm sick of everything!"
He made no answer. She moved about the room, picking up books, putting them down, twitching a curtain. She looked at his head bent over his writing, and wanted to scream.
"It's all right for you, seeing people and everything, but here I am all by myself all day"
"We can live in Westlake if you'd rather."
"Pff! Westlake!"
