“Peter Pan, the Boy Scout who never grew up,” he observed. “What good turn is he doing now?”
Marian still said nothing, but the effort she made to hold her tongue vibrated through the air.
“He is misguided,” Leonard went on. “If he were to follow our example, Marian! Here we sit, developing serenity of soul in contemplation. I’m happy to see you contemplative, Marian. Don’t you feel strengthened by it?”
“Leonard,” she replied, in a voice unsteady from many suppressed emotions, “if, instead of sneering at Evan—”
“Shan’t I put dinner on the table?” interrupted a voice.
It was the voice of Marian’s young sister, Violet. Leonard rose.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” he asked sternly.
“Why should I?” returned Marian. “I didn’t want to disturb you in your soulful contemplations.”
She, too, had risen. He admitted that she was a nice looking girl, but it exasperated him to see that she was tired. It made him feel that every one in the world was tired. He thought of Marian working all day in this detestable little house. He thought of Evan sitting in his office, waiting for the patients who did not come. Everything was awful!
Violet disturbed him. He was sorry for her, just entering upon life in all its awfulness; and she was so unsuspicious. She did not look either tired or discouraged. She was a designer, working in a fashion studio, and she did not seem to mind it.