“Come in,” she said, with a queer dignity that she herself did not understand. “Get out of that fur coat and—and give Aunt Serepta a big hug and a dozen kisses. She’s waiting for you in the sitting-room.”
He still held her hands. “Oh, I say, Jane, I—I used to kiss you when we were little kids. I—”
“But we are not little kids any longer, Oliver,” she cried, drawing back.
He stared hard at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got engaged to somebody, old girl.”
“I am not engaged to any one. I am not even in love with any one.”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is that this burg must have more than its share of blind men,” said he with conviction.
“Hey!” shouted his father. “Do you expect me to carry in these valises for you, you big lummix?”
“Put ’em down, dad. I’ll be out for them in a minute.”
“Well, see that you do.”
“He is getting to be terribly cranky, Oliver,” said Jane, lowering her voice.