"Not much of a wiz to get that slam about a perfect hostess. As if one couldn't believe in Man and fruit salad at the same time."
Roger put his arm about her. "We can, but then, you know, we are exceptional people."
"Because, really, I should loathe beet soup and pickled fish and those Russian foods."
"Honey and violet stems for ours." Roger bent to kiss her and Anne ran her fingers through his hair, stopped abruptly and said:
"She's really a terribly lonely soul, for all her world interests."
"I shouldn't wonder. She didn't mention any relatives, after her childhood, did she?"
When they came again into the house Roger picked up the Anderson case and went over to the couch. Anne began clearing the table. As she gathered up the doilies, she asked carelessly:
"What's the salary?"
"Forty. And expenses," Roger answered, making notes on the margin of a sheet. "Outside cases if I want to. But I shall not take any for a while—anyhow."
Anne went into the kitchen without comment.