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Updated: June 11, 2025
By noontime he was not so sure even of that. If in Miss McGoun, Louetta Swanson, and Ida he had failed to find the lady kind and lovely, it did not prove that she did not exist. He was hunted by the ancient thought that somewhere must exist the not impossible she who would understand him, value him, and make him happy. Mrs. Babbitt returned in August.
All at once he identified Louetta with the fairy girl. He was startled by the conviction that they had always had a romantic attraction for each other. "I suppose you're leading a simply terrible life, now you're a widower," she said. "You bet! I'm a bad little fellow and proud of it.
In the dimness the men were rather solemn and foolish, but the goodwives quivered and adored as they sat about the table. They laughed, "Now, you be good or I'll tell!" when the men took their hands in the circle. Babbitt tingled with a slight return of interest in life as Louetta Swanson's hand closed on his with quiet firmness. All of them hunched over, intent.
"Oh, I'm so hot; I'm not going to dance this one." "Then," boldly, "come out and sit on the porch and get all nice and cool." "Well " In the tender darkness, with the clamor in the house behind them, he resolutely took her hand. She squeezed his once, then relaxed. "Louetta! I think you're the nicest thing I know!" "Well, I think you're very nice." "Do you? You got to like me! I'm so lonely!"
In a pleased way Eddie Swanson stated that he would have a physician analyze his coffee daily. The others were diverted to a discussion of the more agreeable recent murders, but Babbitt drew Louetta back to personal things: "That's the prettiest dress I ever saw in my life." "Do you honestly like it?" "Like it?
He dusted the seat of the car for her, and twice he risked death in showing off his driving. "You do know how to handle a car!" she said. He liked her voice. There was, he thought, music in it and a hint of culture, not a bouncing giggle like Louetta Swanson's. He boasted, "You know, there's a lot of these fellows that are so scared and drive so slow that they get in everybody's way.
But after two minutes of shamed and childish longing to sneak home he was snorting, "Certainly I wasn't trying to get chummy with her! Knew there was nothing doing, all the time!" and he ambled in to dance with Mrs. Orville Jones, and to avoid Louetta, virtuously and conspicuously. HIS visit to Paul was as unreal as his night of fog and questioning.
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