He crashed the sheets down on his knee, and lifted his face, the tips of his ears red.
"Whatever does Margaret want to lug that thing around with her for."
"I guess she's all right." Catherine was at the window, looking at the pale glowing bowl of the city sky before she drew the shade. "Devoted to Margaret."
"Ugh! I'd like that devoted to me!"
"Don't worry!" Catherine drew the shade, and turned laughing. "She won't be. She seems violently anti-man."
"Wasn't she one of the females they had to feed through the nose down there at Washington?"
"That's rather to her credit, isn't it?"
"She's that fanatic type, all right. All emotion, unbalanced, no brain. Now Margaret has some intelligence. But she's being influenced by this woman. I can see a difference in her. To think that she chose herself to leave your mother for that!"
"I think few people influence Margaret." Catherine moved quietly about the room, picking up books left by Spencer, a toy of Letty's, Marian's doll. "She's hard headed, you know."
"Well," said Charles with great finality, "she won't ever capture any man while she has that female attached to her. Great mistake for a nice girl like Margaret to tie herself up with that woman. She seems the real paranoia type."