women since the dawning of consciousness, that it
would be stirring to fire her indifference, to ignite a
passion in response to his own desire. The memory
of her slender, full body, her cool lips, tormented
him.

Lettice woke abruptly.

"Gordon!" she cried, in an odd, muffled voice;
"you're always late; your supper is always spoiled."

"I had my supper," he hurriedly fabricated, "at
Peterman's. It's nice in here, Lettice, with you and
all the things around. It has a comfortable look.
You're right pretty, Lettice, too."

The unexpected compliment brought a flush to her
cheeks. "I'm not pretty now," she replied; "I'm
all pulled out." General Jackson ambled into the
room, sat between them. "Let's hear the General
sing," she proposed.

Gordon wound the phonograph, and the distant,
metallic voice repeated the undeniable fact that Rip
Van Winkle had been unaware of the select pleasures
of Coney Island. The dog whimpered, then
raised his head in a despairing bay.

A time might come in a man's life, Gordon Makimmon
realized, when this peaceful interior would
spell complete happiness.

[[204]]

p203 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p204w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p205

v?