was just saying one night about a month ago that he wondered what had ever become of that nice little Haley girl."
Eddie didn't like Maude. He didn't like the way she acted toward Dot. There was probably a word for it, but he couldn't think what it was. She was acting as though she was giving Dot something. Eddie wished he could think of that word so he could tell Dot later.
"I'll get Ted to come over here and we will have a foursome. How would you like that, Mr. Collins?"
"Try anything once," Eddie responded gloomily.
Ted came over. It was obvious at once that he had never asked anything at all about that nice little Haley girl. He didn't remember having met her before and two minutes after his second introduction had forgotten her name.
"This is a rotten place," Maude said. "I'm glad I have the car downstairs so I can get away from it quick."
"Is it your car?" Dot asked in awe.
"Yes, of course. That is, practically. It's mother's car really."
If Maude had gone a little further she might have reached the truth. The car, a three-year-old Buick, really belonged to a friend of Maude's mother. A most intimate friend of Maude's mother. A friend, in fact, whose intimacy with Maude's mother good people could only deplore.
The orchestra was at work again, but neither of the couples noticed it. Eddie was smoking a cigarette and listening to Maude McLaughlin. He wished he could think of that word. Ted was drinking tea with a certain masculine grace that showed off his soft, well-kept hands. Dot fashioned narrow golden skirts of pineapple with the side of her spoon and thought of Maude at the age of seven sitting on the steps of the teachers' entrance, holding forth on the subject of where babies come from.
