K
       “A man.”      

       “What sort of man?”      

       “How do I know? He is coming tonight. I'll tell you in a week.”      

       Joe was sitting bolt upright now, a little white.     

       “Is he young?”      

       “He's a good bit older than you, but that's not saying he's old.”      

       Joe was twenty-one, and sensitive of his youth.     

       “He'll be crazy about you in two days.”      

       She broke into delighted laughter.     

       “I'll not fall in love with him—you can be certain of that. He is tall and very solemn. His hair is quite gray over his ears.”      

       Joe cheered.     

       “What's his name?”      

       “K. Le Moyne.”      

       “K.?”      

       “That's what he said.”      

       Interest in the roomer died away. The boy fell into the ecstasy of content that always came with Sidney's presence. His inarticulate young soul was swelling with thoughts that he did not know how to put into words. It was easy enough to plan conversations with Sidney when he was away from her. But, at her feet, with her soft skirts touching him as she moved, her eager face turned to him, he was miserably speechless.     

       Unexpectedly, Sidney yawned. He was outraged.     

       “If you're sleepy—”      

    
 Prev. P 7/273 next 
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