He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. You get the idea. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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