“How often do you see her?”
“About once in six months.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
“Well—she doesn’t do anything to me, you know.” He was very serious.
“Probably couldn’t hurt you if she did—a young thing like that. But why don’t you move out?”
Lithway frankly crimsoned. “I—like her.”
“In spite of her eyes?”
“In spite of her eyes. And—I’ve thought that look in them might be the cross light on the staircase.”
I burst out laughing. “Lithway, come away with me. Solitude is getting on your nerves. We’ll go to Germany and look after your little cousin and the aunt who writes such wonderful letters.”
“No.” Lithway was firm. “It’s too much like work.”