"You poor, misguided Rip Van Winkle. When did you return from the
Catskills?"
"When did it happen?" he asked Lilly, trying to keep his eyes from
crinkling.
It was the first time in this last brace of weeks that there had been
more than the merest perfunctory word between them, and she tried to
thaw her cold lips into a smile.
"You forget that you haven't seen her since last Christmas. Six inches
more of skirt and a few hairpins did it."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" he kept reiterating. "Zoe grown up!"
"Is it true you are going to try for the aviation? Ida Blair says you
are."
"Looks that way."
"You're too old."
"Well, then, I'll have to come down to earth. You and your mother have
different ideas regarding my age. I'm rather dizzy about it this minute,
myself. Either time is putting one over on me or you have caught up. By
Jove! that's it! You've caught up! You're immense!"
She was suddenly, and to Lilly's amazement, a creature of flashes and
quirks, of self and sex consciousness.
"Don't like to be--immense!"
"Gorgeous, then."
"Better."
"Don't go. Let me look at you.
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