“I thought you were out,” said René, cold with an almost hatred.
“Me? Tea-partying’s my line. Always has been.”
“Don’t tease him,” said Mrs. Fourmy. “Don’t tease him.”
Mr. Fourmy had his waistcoat unbuttoned, so that to René he seemed all fat stomach bulging through coarse shirting. He turned away in disgust. As he closed the door he heard his mother say:
“It isn’t fair when the boy’s in love.”
He held the door open, and heard his father turn on the creaking bed and laugh and say:
“Love? A gawk like that? Statues are his line, not women.”
Upon that René so lost himself in a sick dread that he was hardly conscious as he walked, and seemed to have been marvelously propelled from Hog Lane to Galt’s Park.
Linda was ready for him in a light muslin frock and an adorable little tip-tilted hat. He had never seen her so pretty.