“It’s really more comfortable than it looks, Carol,” he said, trying to put his guest more at ease. “They keep the rooms warm and that bed sleeps better than it appears.” He unbuttoned his pea-jacket and hung it on a nail on the wall. “Take off your coat, Carol, won’t you?—and tell me what it’s all about. Two o’clock’s an odd time to go creeping after people. Why didn’t you call out?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it,” answered the boy, biting his lip. He removed his thickly woven plaid overcoat, looked for a moment at the nail where Martin’s jacket hung, then folded his own coat meticulously, gave it a final pat and placed it with the utmost care over the back of the rocker.
“I don’t like it, when it’s handled that way,” said Martin, keeping his voice smooth. “I prefer a ‘hello.’”
Carol spoke softly.
“I had to follow you. Deane told me where you worked.”
“You asked her?” For the first time, Martin was genuinely annoyed.
Carol smiled unhappily.
“I had to, Martin. I think you’re wonderful.” His round face was ruddy and glowing and his eyes, bright and intent, were fixed on his host.
“Sit down, Carol.” Martin opened the window, pulled his own chair from under the desk and sat down facing him. “That’s strange,” he went on, a bit puzzled. “I thought you disliked me.” He brushed back his hair where the cold wind had rumpled it and sat quietly, staring out the window into the darkness.