"Men like Richard Brooks mean more to the world than just—clothes, Jimmie."
"I don't see it."
"You wouldn't."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Well, you look so nice in your clothes—and you need them to look nice in."
He stared at her. He felt dimly that she was making fun of him.
"From the way you put it," he said, with irritation, "from the way you put it any one might think that it was just my clothes——"
"That make you attractive? Oh, no, Jimmie. You have nice eyes and—and a way with you."
She was sewing on a scrap of fancy work, and her own eyes were on it. She was as demure as possible, but she seemed unusually and disconcertingly self-possessed.
And now Jimmie became plaintive. Plaintiveness had always been his strong suit with Anne. He was eager for sympathy. His affair with Eve had hurt his vanity.
