" Then he
remembered what Mina Raff had told him about her individuality, her
personal desire; and he repeated it to his wife.
"I don't think Claire is entirely wise," she went on; "but you can't
tell her a thing. She listens as sweetly as possible and then says that
she won't interfere with Peyton. Well, someone else will. Claire has
too much reserve, she is too well-bred and quietly superior. You wait
and see if I am not right; life is very vulgar, and it will take
advantage of her."
"I wonder if you are? Well, as you say, we shall see. If Mina Raff
fixes her mind on him there will be a lot to watch."
"You must speak to him."
"Now there," Lee expostulated, "you make me sick. How--will you tell
me--can I speak to Peyton until he first says something? And when that
happens, as easily as not it may be a cable from Peru. You want to
interfere too much, Fanny, and insist that everybody follow your idea
of right."
She retired into a silence of wisdom that merely looked down on him.
Her face was troubled, her lips tightly compressed. "What time is it?"
she asked sharply; "the ribbon of my watch is worn out. Oh, we can go
home with decency. It makes me rather sick here."
He went below, for his hat and coat, and found the room beyond the
lockers, built as an informal caf? before the era of prohibition,
occupied by a number of men transferring the balance of fulness from a
row of bottles to themselves.
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