He'd be glad to write over to Mr.
Guilfogle about it. Anyway, she seemed willing to have him
stick here.
Yet when dear Carson had jauntily departed, leaving the room
still loud with the smack of his grin, Istra seemed to have
forgotten that Mr. Wrenn was alive. She was scowling at a book
on the bed as though it had said things to her. So he sat quiet
and crushed the magazine covers more closely till the silence
choked him, and he dared, "Mr. Carson is an awful well-educated man."
"He's a bounder," she snapped. She softened her voice as she
continued: "He was in the art school in California when I was
there, and he presumes on that.... It was good of you to stay
and help me get rid of him.... I'm getting--I'm sorry I'm so
dull to-night. I suppose I'll get sent off to bed right now, if
I can't be more entertaining. It was sweet of you to come in,
Mouse.... You don't mind my calling you `Mouse,' do you? I
won't, if you do mind."
He awkwardly walked over and laid the magazines on the bed.
"Why, it's all right.
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