"Did you meet my aunt before she got away?" he asked.
"We did," said Medora, "and we are going to add our advice to hers."
"That's very nice of you," he rejoined, flattered. "But within a couple of
months," he went on, with a lowered voice and an eye on the parlor door, "I
shall be living in a different place and in quite a different way. Until
then...." He shrugged. His shrug was meant to include the scanty,
unpretending furnishings of the room, and also the rough casual fare
provided by many houses of entertainment out of present sight.
"I almost feel like taking you in myself," declared Medora boldly.
"That's still nicer of you," he said very promptly and with a reinforcement
of his smile. "But I'm on the up-grade, and pretty soon everything will
come out as smooth as silk. I shall have ten days at home, for the
holidays; then, after that, the new dispensation."
Amy Leffingwell tempered her look of general commiseration with a slight
lapse into relief. There was no compelling reason why she should have
commiserated; perhaps it all came from a desire to indulge in an
abandonment to gentleness and pity.
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