"Doesn't Poole make a living down there?"
"He hasn't yet. He's to try story-writing."
"Are you corresponding with him, Mary?"
Resenting his catechism, she forced herself to say, quietly, "We write now and then."
"What does Porter think of that?"
"Porter hasn't anything to do with it."
"He has, too. You know you'll marry him, Mary."
"I shall not. I haven't the least idea of marrying Porter."
"Then why do you let him hang around you?"
"Barry," she was blazing, "I don't let him hang around. He comes as he has always come—to see us all."