As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. ‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. “Why not? It might amuse me. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them.
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