Mrs. Pantin looked at her husband fixedly:
“Why this deep interest, Abram?”
Flattered by the implied accusation, Mr. Pantin, however, resisted the temptation to make Mrs. Pantin jealous, and answered truthfully:
“I admire her greatly. She deserves recognition and will get it. If you are a wise woman you’ll swallow your prejudices and be the first to admit it.”
Mrs. Pantin raised both eyebrows—her own and the one she put on mornings—incredulously.
“She’s the kind that would win out anywhere,” he added, with conviction.
Mrs. Pantin stared at him absently, while the tears on her lashes dried to smudges. She murmured finally:
“I could have pineapple with mayonnaise dressing.”
To conceal a smile, Mr. Pantin stooped for his paper.
“Or would you have lettuce with roquefort cheese dressing, Abram?”