"I want to ask him for the proofs that Dwight wanted."
"My dear Lulu," Dwight said impatiently, "you are not the one to write. Have you no delicacy?"
Lulu smiled—a strange smile, originating and dying in one corner of her mouth.
"Yes," she said. "So much delicacy that I want to be sure whether I'm married or not."
Dwight cleared his throat with a movement which seemed to use his shoulders for the purpose.
"I myself will take this up with my brother," he said. "I will write to him about it."
Lulu sprang to her feet. "Write to him now!" she cried.
"Really," said Dwight, lifting his brows.
"Now—now!" Lulu said. She moved about, collecting writing materials from their casual lodgments on shelf and table. She set all before him and stood by him. "Write to him now," she said again.
"My dear Lulu, don't be absurd."