He went in and stood with his back to the fire, still unable to rid his brow of the frown it had worn the night before.
“Oh, I reckon you've got too citified for us,” he said, “along with other accomplishments that fast set down there has taught you.”
Adele laid her book open on her lap.
“Look here, Alan,” she said, quite gravely. “What's the matter with you?”
“Nothing, that I know of,” he said, without meeting her direct gaze.
“Well, there is,” she said, as the outcome of her slow inspection of his clouded features.
He shrugged his shoulders and gave her his eyes steadily.
“I don't like the way you and Miller are carrying on.” He hurled the words at her sullenly. “You see, I know him through and through.”
“Well, that's all right,” she replied, not flinching from his indignant stare; “but what's that got to do with my conduct and his?”
“You allow him to be too familiar with you,” Alan retorted. “He's not the kind of a man for you to—to act that way with. He has flirted with a dozen women and thrown them over; he doesn't believe in the honest love of a man for a woman, or the love of a woman for a man.”