‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers. “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. ” The hand lingered too long. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. She stared at his pleading face. “Is this a concession to Mrs. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone.
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