"Couldn't get your breath, could you? You know you were there, don't you?"
"No."
The squirrel sat down. "Difficult, aren't you? Why should I bother?"
Ted said nothing.
"She's a beautiful girl. Can't see why her husband would leave her."
Ted asked, "Who's a beautiful girl?"
The squirrel went over to nose the golf ball, again.
"I asked a question," Ted said.
The squirrel sat up, looking at the nutmeg tree. "Look, Mr. Truesdale, we've got to have a meeting of minds. You know who's a beautiful girl, and so do I. Good gosh, you've been sitting there, drooling, all morning. And now you're back for more." The bright black eyes turned Ted's way. "Don't be so conventional. That's what kept you from being a first rate artist."
Ted was silent.