CHAPTER FOURTEENEnd of Evening
Gamadge stood looking after the departing figure of Mrs. Tanner’s friend. “Repeat that if you like,” he thought. “It certainly won’t come as a surprise.”
He was beginning to feel that he had had a long day; the music, good of its kind, was no more than a din in his ears; the motions of the dance, when he turned back to the room, looked to him like the aimless gyrations of dolls on wires. But his thoughts were still churning, if sluggishly, and he was as hungry as Miss Bean. Should he go home and investigate the icebox? He might find it uninteresting; Theodore’s housekeeping, when Gamadge made these short trips home in the summer, was careful.
The intermission was coming; why not sit quietly down and eat something in peace while he regularized his ideas? He
