It was a mad half-hour. \"I'd like some popcorn. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ‘Seen her again, have you? Well, if she’s been giving you as much saucy impudence as I’ve had to contend with, I can only say I’m glad of it. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays.
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