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Zapp she was the landlady and I didn't like her very much. But here Tom Poppins and Mrs. Arty and the rest they really like folks, and they make it just like a home.... Miss Croubel is a very nice girl. She works for Wanamacy's she has quite a big job there. She is assistant buyer in the " He stopped in horror. He had nearly said "in the lingery department."
Tom: Oh, how we will squat you!... What you bidding, Wrenn? Behind Mr. Wrenn, Nelly Croubel whispered to him: "Bid seven on no suit. You've got the joker." Her delicate forefinger, its nail shining, was pointing at a curious card in his hand. "Seven nosut," he mumbled. "Eight hearts," snapped Miss Proudfoot. Nelly drew up a chair behind Mr. Wrenn's.
Nelly Croubel gave him the impression of a delicate prettiness, a superior sort of prettiness, like that of the daughter of the Big White House on the Hill, the Squire's house, at Parthenon; though Nelly was not unusually pretty. Indeed, her mouth was too large, her hair of somewhat ordinary brown. But her face was always changing with emotions of kindliness and life.
He blushed. He furiously buttered his bread as Mrs. Arty remarked to the assemblage: "Ladies and gentlemen, I want you all to meet Miss Istra Nash. Miss Nash you've met Mr. Wrenn; Miss Nelly Croubel, our baby; Tom Poppins, the great Five-Hundred player; Mrs. Ebbitt, Mr. Ebbitt, Miss Proudfoot."
She looked as though she were trained for business; awake, self-reliant, self-respecting, expecting to have to get things done, all done, yet she seemed indestructibly gentle, indestructibly good and believing, and just a bit shy. Nelly Croubel was twenty-four or twenty-five in years, older in business, and far younger in love. She was born in Upton's Grove, Pennsylvania.
He was to live in this heaven; he was going to be away from that Zapp woman; and Nelly Croubel Was she engaged to some man? he wondered. Mrs. Arty was saying: "First, I want to ask you some questions, though. Please sit down." As she creaked into one of the wicker chairs she suddenly changed from the cigarette-rolling chaffing card-player to a woman dignified, reserved, commanding. "Mr.
Wrenn and Mr. Morton had gone clear across the Atlantic on a cattle-boat? It really was? "Oh, how interesting!" contributed pretty Nelly Croubel, beside Mr. Wrenn, her young eyes filled with an admiration which caused him palpitation and difficulty in swallowing his soup.
Arty and Nelly Croubel. Out of the mist of strangeness presently emerged the personality of Miss Mary Proudfoot, a lively but religious spinster of forty who made doilies for the Dorcas Women's Exchange and had two hundred dollars a year family income. To the right of the red-glass pickle-dish were the elderly Ebbitts Samuel Ebbitt, Esq., also Mrs. Ebbitt. Mr.
Wrenn achieved, "Do you come from New York, Miss Croubel?" and listened to the tale of sleighing-parties in Upton's Grove, Pennsylvania. He was absolutely happy. "This is like getting home," he thought. "And they're classy folks to get home to now that I can tell 'em apart. Gee! Miss Croubel is a peach. And brains golly!"
Wrenn sat sulking, hating his friends for having brought him, hating the sweetness of Nelly Croubel, and saying to himself, "Oh sure she dances with all those other men me, I'm only the poor fool that talks to her when she's tired and tries to cheer her up." He did not answer when Tom came and told him a new story he had just heard in the barroom.
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