And while I picked up an evening paper she went on with her pottering about the bureau.
But the light sound of the moving paper began to get a little on my nerves. It does that sometimes. I suppose it's like some people fidgeting if there is a cat in the room. And presently I noticed that when she supposed me to be busily reading the rustling stopped. It was no good going on like this; the sooner I came to the point and said what I had to say, the better. I thought for a moment, and then put down my newspaper.
"Evie——" I said.
"Yes, dear?" she said brightly....
I put it with perfect gentleness. Suddenness and sharpness also are among the trifles of life I had had to forego. When I had finished, she did not seem surprised. She only nodded once or twice.
"I see," she said slowly. "Well, Miriam—I mean Miss Levey, if you wish it, dear——"
"No, darling; I don't know that I go as far as that. I was only speaking of these broadcast intimacies."
"Miriam, then—Miriam said you would object——"
"Well, I never denied Miriam a certain acuteness."
But she shook her head. For a minute or two I had been sure that I was not the only one who had something to say. When she did go on, it was at first haltingly, and then with just such a little setting of her resolution as she had used when, years ago, a sweet and awkward flapper, she had complimented me on my spurious engagement to the lady whose name she now suddenly mentioned.