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Updated: June 12, 2025
"No, he isn't that He Why did you lead spades?" reflected Claire. They were in the drawing-room, resting after the tact and tumult of the bruncheon. Claire had been here long enough now for the Gilsons to forget her comfortably, and be affectionate and quarrelsome and natural, and to admit by their worrying that even in their exalted social position there were things to fuss about.
She would see to it that her Seattle cousins, the Gilsons, helped him to know the right people, during his university work. She herself would be back in Brooklyn, but perhaps he would write to her, write write letters Brooklyn she was in Brooklyn no, no, where was she? oh, yes, camping bad day brakes No, she would not marry Jeff Saxton! Brooklyn river singing stars
Betz ceased; and without any of the unhappiness which the thought would have caused her three months before, Claire reflected, "How they hate me!" The Gilsons had a number of thoughts upon the subject of tact to express to Claire on the way home. But she, who had always smiled, who had been the obedient guest, shrugged and snapped, "They're idiots, those young women.
Saxton waited for something more. He dug the nail of his right middle finger into his thumb, looked thoughtful, and attacked again: "Which do you like better: the new Italian music, or the orthodox German?" Milt smiled like two uncles watching a clever baby, and patronized Saxton with, "They both have their points." He saw that Claire was angry; but that the Gilsons and Mrs.
Claire tried to wriggle out from under the thought of Milt while, with the Gilsons as the perfect audience, she improvised on the theme of wandering. With certain unintended exaggerations, and certain not quite accurate groupings of events, she described the farmers and cowpunchers, the incredible hotels and garages. Indeed they had become incredible to her own self.
"Did he know your friend Mr. Pinky?" asked Saxton. Before Milt could answer, Claire rose from the bed, inspected the Gilsons and Jeff with cold dislike, and said quietly to Milt, "The poor dear thing he was dreadfully embarrassed. It's so good of you to be nice to him. I believe in being loyal to your old friends." "Oh, so do I!" babbled Mrs. Gilson. "It's just too splendid.
She could only mutter in growing panic, "I'm crazy. In-sane! Pledging myself to this boy before I know how he will turn out. Will he learn anything besides engineering? I know it I do want to stroke his cheek and his kiss frightened me, but Will I hate him when I see him with nice people? Can I introduce him to the Gilsons?
Mr. Boltwood loomed on them. "The train's coming, at last. We'll have a decent sleep for once, at the Gilsons'. I've wired them to meet us." He departed. "Terribly glad your father keeps coming down on us, because it scares me so I get desperate," said Milt. "Golly, I think I can hear the train. I, uh, Claire, Claire dear " "Milt, are you proposing to me? Please hurry, because that is the train.
She came West early, and had a hard time, but she's real Brooklyn Heights and she belongs to Gramercy Park and North Washington Square and Rittenhouse Square and Back Bay, too, though she has got out of touch a little. So I wanted you to meet her." Milt wondered what unperceived bag of cement had hardened the faces of Saxton and the Gilsons.
He was anecdotal and amusing at tea, that afternoon. Claire saw how the Gilsons, and two girls who dropped in, admired him. That made her uneasy. And when Mrs. Gilson begged him to leave his hotel and stay with them, he refused with a quick look at Claire that hurt her. "He wants me to be free. He's really so much more considerate than Milt. And I hurt him. Even his pride broke down.
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