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Updated: June 11, 2025
"It doesn't seem quite possible, does it? Breakfast-napkins, and four months ago I didn't even know her! Mind?" he asked abruptly, holding up a silver case. He selected and lit a cigarette, flipping the charred match straight as an arrow into the fireplace. He smoked in silence a moment, smiling meditatively. "Mother's making some napkins, too!" he broke out.
Robert Jennings entered. He glowed as if he had just been walking up hill briskly. He shook hands with me. "Hello," he said, his gray eyes smiling pleasantly. "Been out today? Ought to! Like spring. Where's Ruth?" "Just gone to the Square. She'll be right back. Run out of cotton for your breakfast-napkins." "Breakfast-napkins!" he exclaimed, and laughed boyishly. I laughed, too.
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