Then he smoked a cigarette and got into bed,
feeling more secure.
Determined not to submit to any more of Mary's caresses, and feeling
infinitely small and mean over the realization that he had already
permitted her to carry her affection too far, he frowned at her when he
went into the kitchen after washing the next morning, gruffly replying
when she wished him a cheery, "Good morning," and grasping her arms
when she attempted to kiss him.
He blushed, though, when her eyes reproached him.
"I ain't used to bein' mushed over," he told her. "We'll get along a
heap better if you cut out the kissin'."
"Why, Will!" she said, her lips trembling.
She set them though, instantly, and went about her duties, leaving
Sanderson to stand in the center of the room feeling like a brute.
They breakfasted in silence--almost. Sanderson saw her watching
him--covert glances that held not a little wonder and disappointment.
And then, when the meal was nearly finished, she looked at him with a
taunting half-smile.
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