“I’m very glad to meet you,” said Logan. “Kühler has talked about you so often.”
“Yes,” said Morrison.
“I hope you don’t mind a Bohemian party. They are a mixed lot.”
“No,” said Morrison.
“Good God!” thought Logan. “Not a word to say for herself!”
Mendel introduced her to Oliver, who looked her up and down superciliously—this little schoolgirl in her brown tweed coat and skirt.
“I’m sorry I didn’t dress,” said Morrison. “I didn’t know.”
She shrank from the big, fleshy woman, who made her feel very unhappy. Yet she wanted to be fair. She had heard Mendel storm and rage against Oliver and she hated to be prejudiced. It distressed her not to like anybody, for she found most people likeable. She tried to be amiable:—
“I’m so glad the exhibition was such a success. Everybody is talking about it.”