I haven't wasted any time
talking to _her_." She indicated the flapper, who still fixed the
implacable look on Bean.
"If she doesn't know at nineteen, she never would--"
"We've settled all _that_," said the flapper loftily. "Haven't we?"
Bean nodded. All at once that look of the flapper's began to be
intelligible. He could almost read it.
"I suppose you expect me to talk a lot of that stuff about marriage
being a serious business," continued the Demon evenly. "But I shan't.
Marriage isn't half as serious as living alone is. It's what we were
made for in my time, and your time isn't a bit different, young man."
She raised an argumentative finger toward him, as if he had sought to
contest this.
"I've always--" he began weakly. But the Demon would have none of it.
"Oh, don't tell _me_ what you've 'always!' I know well enough what
you've 'always.' That isn't the point."
What did the woman think she was talking about? Couldn't he say a word
to her without being snapped at?
"What is the point?" he ventured. It was still the waiting game, and it
showed he wasn't afraid of her.
"The point is--"
[Illustration: In that instant Bean read the flapper's look, the look
she had puzzled him with from their first meeting]
And in that instant Bean read the flapper's look, the look she had
puzzled him with from their first meeting. It was like finally
understanding an oft-heard phrase in a foreign tongue.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178