When she came down Warrener had been walking about his tiny parlor and dining room, and was still under the spell of householder and in love with his possessions.
“You’ve got the McAllister wedding present cleaned up fine.”
“It’s the only real silver we’ve got; it makes the other things look common.”
Mrs. Warrener regarded the display on her buffet with some discontent.
“Oh, I don’t know,” returned the husband. “It’s as good as you can get anywhere for the money.”
“The McAllisters have come back to Slocum,” his wife mentioned.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Mrs. McAllister used to go to Uncle Samson’s church. I don’t see why you shouldn’t go up there to call some day.”
Mrs. Warrener had opened the front door and gone out on the stoop; George, getting into his overcoat, followed her. Side by side they went slowly down the front steps of the little wooden stoop.
“I shouldn’t know what to say.”