The trouble was that she never did start[Pg 491] anything. In her way, she was a pretty decent sort of girl, and patient with Leonard. That winter, when he had had the flu—
If she knew now how he felt! Of course he could not tell her, ever; but if she did know! She would call him “poor boy,” and would not care how late he was.
He stopped in at the Greek confectioner’s and got a box of chocolates. It would please the foolish woman, and he was rather fond of her.
As he came down the street, he heard voices from the porch. He concealed the chocolates in his newspaper. When he entered the house, Marian would follow him, and then, if she happened to mention that he looked miserable, he might admit he was, and let her call him “poor boy.”
“And you’ll get a car,” he heard Aunt Jean say.
“It certainly would help,” said Evan.
“Deary, you’ve got to put up a good front. Just you get a bigger house, and a car, and a maid in a cap and apron to open the door, and the patients’ll come fast enough!”
“You’re right!” agreed Evan, heartily.
“And Marian ought to have a fur coat this winter. Deary, things like that are an investment!”
“I shouldn’t know myself in a fur coat,” said Marian, with an unnatural little laugh.