But he wasn’t thinking about her age. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was thinking. He could feel the tingling fascination of her physical presence and at the same time he was irritated with himself for staring at her.
He didn’t realize that she was returning his stare. Whatever her reaction was, she did a nice job of hiding it. It lasted that way for a few minutes or so, then she was looking at her brother and saying, “All right, Newton. Finish your drink and let’s go home.”
Channing smiled at the whisky glass. “I ought to pay you a salary. What are nursemaids getting these days?”
“It isn’t that kind of job.” Her tone was quiet and amiable. “It isn’t a job at all. I don’t mind it in the least.”
Channing shrugged. “You might as well sit down and have a drink. I’m not ready to go yet. I still have some drinking to do.”
“How much have you had?”
“Very little, really.”
“That means you’ve had almost a quart.”
“It hasn’t hit me yet,” Channing said. “I’ve got to stay here until it hits me.”
“One of these nights it’ll really hit you and you’ll be carried out on a stretcher.” She was looking down at her brother as though examining a curious exhibit. “I’m absolutely certain you’ll wind up in a hospital. Is that what you want?”