“Mother, Seymour told Daddy that he’d pay for it. There’s no reason for—”
“Well, we’ll see. How did he behave—in the car and all?”
“All right,” said the girl.
“Did he keep calling you that awful—”
“No. He has something new now.”
“What?”
“Oh, what’s the difference, Mother?”
“Muriel, I want to know. Your father—”
“All right, all right. He calls me Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948,” the girl said, and giggled.
“It isn’t funny, Muriel. It isn’t funny at all. It’s horrible. It’s sad, actually. When I think how—”