But as he never
read polite literature their friendship was unimpaired.
II
He came to tea that afternoon in response to a telephone call from Alexina.
She had put on a tea gown of periwinkle blue chiffon and a silver fillet
about her head, and looked to Mr. Kirkpatrick's despairing gaze as she
intended to look--beautiful, of course, but less woman than goddess.
Exquisite but not tempting. She was quite aware of the young workman's
hopeless passion and she managed him as skillfully as she did the more
assured, sophisticated, and sometimes "illuminated" Jimmie Thorne and
Bascom Luning.
She received him in the great drawing-room behind the tea-table, laden with
the massive silver of dead and gone Ballingers.
"I've only been home a week," she said gayly. "See what a good friend I am.
I've scarcely seen any one. Did you get my post cards?"
"I did and I've framed them, if you don't mind my saying so."
"I hoped you would. I picked out the prettiest I could find. They do have
such beauties in Europe. Just think, it was my first visit. I was wildly
excited. Wouldn't you like to go?"
"Naw. America's good enough for me. 'Fris--oh, Lord! San Francisco--for
that matter. I'd like to go to the next International Socialist Congress
all right--next year. Maybe I will. I guess that would give me enough of
Europe to last me the rest of my natural life."
"I met a good many Frenchmen, and I have a friend married to a very clever
one.
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