"Now, Mama—bloodpressure," enjoined Pauline in a colorless voice.
Mama relapsed into immobility and Winifred went on, quite as if there had been no explosion. "Are you married, Mr Weener?"
I said I was not.
"Then here's our chance for Pauline," decided Winifred. "Mr Weener, how would you like to marry Pauline?"
I could do nothing but smile uncomfortably. Was this the sort of conversation habitually carried on in their circle or were they quite mad? Constance mentioned with apparent irrelevance, "Winifred is so giddy," and Pauline smiled at me understandingly.
But Winifred went on, "Weve been trying to marry Pauline off for years, you know. She's wonderful to look at, but she hasnt any sexappeal."
Mama snorted, "Damned vulgar thing to have."
"Would you like some tea, Mr Weener?" asked Constance.
"Tea! He looks like a secret cocacola guzzler to me! Are you an American Mr Uh?" Mama demanded fiercely, deigning for the first time to address me.
"I was born in California, Mrs Thario," I assured her.