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Updated: July 24, 2025
She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to discussing certain "wheels" in the corner of an imaginary lunch-cloth and just how one went about making them. He made a tentative remark or two, trying to win her attention to himself, but she pushed her cup and saucer aside to make room for further fork drawings, and glanced at him with her most exaggerated Christmas-angel look.
He can go to the dickens, for all I care." "WHAT happened last night?" Evadna wore her Christmas-angel expression; and her tone was the sweet, insipid tone of childlike innocence. Gene hesitated. It seemed a sheer waste of opportunity to tell her the truth when she would believe a falsehood just as readily; but, since the truth happened to be quite as improbable as a lie, he decided to speak it.
"Well, if I want to do it, I don't see why you need concern yourself about it. I wasn't doing it for your benefit, anyway." "Will you tell me what you DID do it for? Of all the silly tomfoolery " An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmas-angel look for an instant, then vanished, and left her a pretty, abused maiden who is grieved at harsh treatment.
He stood perfectly still while Good Indian reached out a hand. "I'll carry it I'm more used to packing bottles," he announced gravely. "Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of " She was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angel look. Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly eying each other.
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