"Yeah. Maybe so. Look. You don't have any ideas about Marcia—that you'd give me, but not him?"
"Too many!"
"I don't understand."
"I couldn't very well give Paul the names and addresses of all the boys who have liked her, could I? In the shape he's in—he'd rout out God Almighty, or run a one-man posse through hell."
"Yeah."
"Phil. He shouldn't see her now—even if I knew where she was—and I haven't a single good idea about that. Just—lots of possibilities. I don't know what she'd do—I doubt if she'd do anything violent—but she has a right to be wherever she wants, hasn't she?"
"Of course. I just thought—if you did have any hunches—he's sitting here chewing the rug—"
Hattie sighed. "Old enough to do better! Maybe he's a great physicist—but, believe me, he's in kindergarten on women! I tried to tell him so—gently. But he just sat there looking wilder than a priest trapped in the ladies' can! If I hear anything tomorrow, Phil, I'll give you a ring. If I were you—I'd slip Paul a Mickey Finn, or something, to cool him down."
I thanked her.
She told me she was glad I liked Gwen and I said again that I thought Gwen was a good deal of damsel and I hung up.