His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Why?” He inquired. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. Oh, don't worry. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. Happy Thanksgiving. My Mom is hell bent on having the biggest, most beautiful house in the neighborhood, my college education be damned.
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