The Helpmate

by May Sinclair

"In him? Oh, rather not."

"In whom, then?"

"Well—I don't think, Edie, that Mrs. Walter—I like her—" he stuck to it—"I like her, you know, she's charming, but—I don't think she particularly cares for me."

"How do you know that?"

"How do I know anything? By the way she looks at me."

"Oh, the way Anne looks at people—"

"Well, you know, it's something tremendous, something terrible. Unutterable things, you know. She knocks the Inquisition and the day of judgment all to pieces. They're simply not in it. It's awfully hard lines on me, you see, because I like her."

"I'm glad you like her."

"Oh, I only like her because she likes you, I think."

"And I like her. Please remember that."