I don't know anybody I like well
enough to marry. For that matter, I don't think I am a marrying
woman. Office work seems to spoil one for that."
Daylight ran his eyes over her, from her face to the tip of a
bronze slipper, in a way that made the color mantle in her
cheeks. At the same time he shook his head sceptically.
"It strikes me that you're the most marryingest woman that ever
made a man sit up and take notice. And now another question.
You see, I've just got to locate the lay of the land. Is there
anybody you like as much as you like me?"
But Dede had herself well in hand.
"That's unfair," she said. "And if you stop and consider,
you will find that you are doing the very thing you
disclaimed--namely, nagging. I refuse to answer any more
of your questions. Let us talk about other things.
How is Bob?"
Half an hour later, whirling along through the rain on Telegraph
Avenue toward Oakland, Daylight smoked one of his brown-paper
cigarettes and reviewed what had taken place. It was not at all
bad, was his summing up, though there was much about it that was
baffling. There was that liking him the more she knew him and at
the same time wanting to marry him less.
Pages:
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426