“Yes. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance. They had completed a circuit of the mansion before Roding’s frustration burst out. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. She cursed herself for a fool. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. Until then we mean to keep on hammering away.
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