"That was--bothersome for a minute." His tone lent the words a quaint
accent of scare.
"Oh, well--if you have one at all--the way the service is now--"
"There won't be any telephone when we take our vacation together, that's
_settled_."
She had been kneeling, examining a bookcase for books. Now she turned with
one in her hand, her hair ruddy and smooth as ruddy amber in the reflected
light.
"No, but _telegrams_. And wireless," she whispered mockingly, the more
mockingly because it so obviously made him worried as a worried boy. She
came over and stood smoothing his ear a moment, a half-unconscious
customary gesture, no doubt, for he relaxed under it and the look of rest
came back. Then she went to her chair, sat down and opened the book.
"No use borrowing trouble now, dear. Now listen. Cigar?" "Going."
"Ashtray?"
"Yes."
"And remember not to knock it over when you get excited. Promise?"
"Um."
"Very well."
Mrs. Severance's even voice began to flow into the stillness.
"As I was getting too big for Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt--"
XXI
"And that's the end of the chapter.
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