Some class, too," he added with a
leer that won Bulger's complete respect. He breathed freely again and
was humming, "Love Me and the World Is Mine," as they separated.
But when he was alone the song died. The thing was getting serious. And
she was so assured. Telling him to be there as if she were Breede
himself. How did she know he had time for all that tea and Grandma
nonsense? Suppose he had had another engagement. She hadn't given him
time to say. Hadn't asked him; just _told_ him. Well, it showed one
thing. It showed that Bunker Bean could bring women to his feet.
His afternoon recreation, there being no baseball, was to lead Nap
triumphantly through Central Park to be seen of an envious throng. He
affected a lordly unconsciousness of the homage Nap received. He left
adoring women in his wake and covetous men; and children demanded
bluntly if he would sell that dog; or if he wouldn't sell him would he
give him away, because they wanted him.
Surfeited with this easily won attention, he sat by the driveway to
watch the endless parade of carriage folk. His eye was for the women in
those shining equipages. Young or old, they were to him newly exciting.
His attitude was the rather scornful one of a conqueror whose victories
have cost him too little. They had been mysteries to him, but now, all
in a day, he understood women. They were vulnerable things, and men were
their masters.
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