“Why, she told him to go to the devil. And he backing her! Can you imagine?”
“I hope I can.”
“They’re mostly that sort, ducky—Jews and Gentiles.... It’s a good thing I have Mom. All I have to do is whistle her. Run? It would surprise you.”
Luncheon was announced.
He nodded, absently.... He was rather silent during luncheon. But Rosalind departed rather pleased with herself.
That night, writing to Eris, he said: “If ever anything disagreeable happens to annoy you, I want you to come to me with it immediately.”
Commenting on this, from the Berkshires: “Everything is gay and nothing is disagreeable. Mr. Smull came up and we had a picnic near Williamstown—the jolliest party!—except that Mr. Shunk had been drinking and Mr. Creevy’s jokes were rather vulgar. But a girl becomes impervious to such details. Only—I miss Frank Donnell and the nice, clean people in Betsy’s company....”
That was all. And Annan, relieved, yet always vaguely uneasy, went on with his brand new story—scratched away at it, biding the return of Eris.