"What's his address?" I asked gruffly. Sue gave it to me and good-humoredly yawned and said she must be getting home.
"Good-night, dear," said Eleanore. She had risen and come to the door. "What a love of a hat you're wearing. It's a new one, isn't it? I caught sight of it in the parade."
But the smile which my tall sister threw back at us from the doorway had nothing whatever to do with hats. It said as plainly as in words:
"Now, you cozy liberals, go over and touch that spot if you dare."
When she had gone I took up a book and tried to read. But I soon gloomily relapsed. Would J. K. never leave me alone? What was he doing with my harbor? Why should I look him up, confound him—he hadn't bothered his head about me. But I knew that I would look him up and would find him more disturbing than ever. How he did keep moving on. No, not on, but down, down—until now he had bumped the bottom!
"Are you going to see him?"
Glancing sharply up, I saw Eleanore carefully watching my face.
"Oh, I suppose so," I replied. She bent again to her knitting.
"He must be a strange kind of a person," she said.