"What can I do? She says she's got the right," suggested Bean.
"She'd take it anyway. I know her. Pack a suit-case. Had times with her already. Takes it from her mother."
"Can't be too rough at the start," declared Bean. "Manage 'em of course, but 'thout their finding it out—velvet glove." He looked quietly confident and Breede glanced at him almost respectfully.
"When?" he asked.
"Haven't made up my mind yet," said Bean firmly. "I may consult her, then again I may not; don't believe in long engagements."
Breede's glance this time was wholly respectful.
"You're a puzzle to me," he conceded.
Bean's shrug eloquently seemed to retort, "that's what they all say, sooner or later."
They were silent upon this. Bean wondered if Julia was still fussing back there. Or had she sent to White Plains for some more? And what was the flapper just perfectly doing at that moment? Life was wonderful! Here he was to witness a ball game on Friday!
They were in the grandstand, each willing and glad to forget, for the moment, just how weirdly wonderful life was. A bell clanged twice, the plate was swept with a stubby broom, the home team scurried to their places.