Mr. Wrenn looked as though sudden illness had overpowered him. But Theresa laughed, and remarked: “You don’t want to let Ma get on her high horse, Mr. Wrenn. She’s a bluff.”
With much billowing of the lower, less stiff part of her garments, she sailed to the cloudy mirror over the magazine-filled bookcase and inspected her cap of false curls, with many prods of her large firm hands which flashed with Brazilian diamonds. Though he had heard the word “puffs,” he did not know that half her hair was false. He stared at it. Though in disgrace, he felt the honor of knowing so ample and rustling a woman as Miss Lee Theresa.
“But, say, I wish I could ’ve let her know I was going earlier, Miss Zapp. I didn’t know it myself, but it does seem like a mean trick. I s’pose I ought to pay her something extra.”
“Why, child, you won’t do anything of the sort. Ma hasn’t got a bit of kick coming. You’ve always been awful nice, far as I can see.” She smiled lavishly. “I went for a walk to-night…. I wish all those men wouldn’t stare at a girl so. I’m sure I don’t see why they should stare at me.”
Mr. Wrenn nodded, but that didn’t seem to be the right comment, so he shook his head, then looked frightfully embarrassed.
“I went by that Armenian restaurant you were telling me about, Mr. Wrenn. Some time I believe I’ll go dine there.” Again she paused.
He said only, “Yes, it is a nice place.”
Remarking to herself that there was no question about it, after all, he was a little fool, Theresa continued the siege. “Do you dine there often?”
“Oh yes. It is a nice place.”
“Could a lady go there?”