"And Thusis is twenty."
I thought deeply for a while, then:
"We'd better keep away from them except when business requires an interview," I concluded.
"Why," he pointed out in annoyance, "that leaves me out entirely."
"Of course. I shall not think of Thusis at all except on terms of business. That's the safe idea, Smith, business,—strictly business. It neutralizes everything; it's a wet blanket on folly; it paralyzes friskiness; it slays sentiment in its tracks. Become a business man. Engage in some useful occupation. Suppose, for example, I pay you a franc a week to feed my chickens."
"I've plenty to do, I tell you."
"Then do it, old top, and steer shy of that little blue-eyed parlor maid of mine."
He made no answer. We prowled about until nearly lunch-time. But the odd thing was that I had lost my appetite. It may have happened because I'd begun to worry a little about Thusis.
What the deuce had that girl been doing in Zurich all this while? She was too attractive to go about that seething city alone with market-cart and horse. Some fresh young officer—
"Smith?"