"Oh, I don't think she does, Bob. He's so different—from these boys here." And then suddenly she begged: "Look, Bob! Oh, let me do the talking to her!" For walking slowly along, side by side, were the two of them, little rosy Martha and the man that seemed always bending over her. So near they were that Bob stopped the car with a jerk.
"We'll give you a lift," he said, unceremoniously. "Get in!"
Martha introduced her companion. Bob gave the shortest possible sign of being aware of his existence. He was opening the car door.
"Get in!" he said to his daughter.
"It's a glorious night for walking," Mr. Quin remarked, standing still.
"It's too late. Get in!" Bob again spoke directly to Martha.
She turned to her escort. "It is rather muddy here. Let's ride a little." And she got serenely in, and bade him follow her. The car started.
Emily turned around in her seat.
"You staying long in town, Mr. Quin? I meant to call. But Eve said your wife isn't well."
"Oh—I'm not sure yet. It's all so interesting to me. A Western town like this. It's quite surprised me." Hadn't Eve said the man was brought up in Indiana? His tone annoyed Emily so that she turned abruptly about in her seat. Martha leaned forward to her.