"He thinks it's the most ripping dance hall he ever saw, of the kind, mother." Ripping, was it? Such a distinguished word, so unlike this West, Emily was saying to herself. Where was Bob going? Why didn't he take them directly home? He had turned, and in a minute, before they knew it almost, they had stopped in front of Eve's home.
"We'll drop you here," said Bob.
The stranger looked at Martha.
She said, surprised: "No—— Oh—well——"
"It's the way we have in these Western towns," Bob remarked, shortly. The man said good night reluctantly and as meaningly as possible, with Emily's eye upon him.
In the light of the living room, Emily said: "Look at your slippers, Martha! What made you walk home in them?"
"Oh, mother, it was such moonlight. You were absolutely rude to him, mother. I never saw you act so before," Martha spoke grievedly.
"I know a snubbing when I get one. He didn't ask me to call on his wife."
"But, mother, you know she isn't well. Eve said so."
"If she isn't well I think he'd better devote himself exclusively to her. Martha, I don't like this. He ought to know better, if you don't. You'll get yourself talked about, if this keeps on."