...
"Why, Johnnie Gregory--YOU here!"
"Yes, didn't you!--"
"I _knew_ I was right ... Penton maintained it was to-morrow you were
due--Darrie sided with him--Darrie is a friend of mine who is visiting
us, from Virginia--but Ruth, Mubby's secretary," she finished, relapsing
into her intimate petting name for her husband, (Mubby is short for "My
hubby")--"Ruth sided with me, though we had quite an argument about it."
"And you and Ruth were right!"
"Yes, I was right," she assented, leaving "Ruth" out, with naive egoism.
"Sit down in the morris chair ... you look dusty and heated ... I'll
entertain you ... I'm all alone ... Penton is dictating an article to
Ruth. Darrie's washing her hair. I'm the only member of the Leisure
Class. I'm lazing here, reading Gorky's latest novel."
What an engaging, pretty, naive, little woman this was! I commented
inwardly. A sweet aroma of feminine health breathed from her body,
bosom, hair--a tumbly black mass--as perfume breathes from a wild
flower.
Strangely enough, I felt calm and happy in her presence; at home, as I
had never been with any woman or girl before.
Up to this moment, when alone with a woman, timidity had touched me to
ice, while inwardly I had trembled with suppressed passion and fright.
Set in the midst of a group of women, I shone. As at the university,
when I used to visit whole sorority chapters at once, and, with from
five to ten girls seated about me in the parlour, talk brilliantly and
easily and poetically with all of them.
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