“And will you?” Jeannette asked, listlessly.
“Well, I guess I can’t. Mr. Gibbs said something about some friends of theirs asking us all to go sailing to-morrow.”
“That will be nice,” said his wife, still in a lifeless tone, but Martin did not notice.
“By George, I think this is a great place. I was asking Mr. Gibbs about rents, and he tells me we could get a fine little eight-room house for forty a month, and it’s only three-quarters of an hour from town.”
“And what would you do without your theatres and your shows and your little dinners downtown?” smiled Jeannette.
The smile upon his wife’s face twisted skeptically. She knew Martin better than he knew himself.
“And don’t you think the Gibbses ’re awful nice folks? They don’t put on any airs but ’re friendly and simple. They’d take us under their wing and ’d be darned nice neighbors.”
Jeannette shut her mouth. It was not the time to shatter his enthusiasm; he was having a good time, imagined these people wonderful; it wouldn’t be kind of her to show him now how vulgar and cheap and horrid they and their friends and their little ridiculous Club were. No,--it would only hurt him, and under the influence of the day and the good time, it would lead to a quarrel,--and she was sick of quarrels. She reminded herself she was out of sorts from the long day of boredom and disappointment; it would be madness to say a word now. The time when she could make him see the Gibbses, their house, their friends, their tiresome pleasures and cheap environment as she saw them would come, and she must bide her time.
“... not so particularly interesting,” Martin was saying, “but a darned good sort, and he’s got a shrewd business head. I think he likes me first-rate, and I was mighty glad to see you and Mrs. Gibbs pulling together. She told me she thought you were great, said all manner of nice things about how swell you looked. She’s not much of a looker, herself, but she certainly has got the right feeling of hospitality. Know what I mean, Jan? She gives you the best she’s got, and makes you feel at home and that she’s glad you’re in her house. I think that’s bully.... And isn’t that kid a corker? Golly, I think he’s slick! You know, I carried him all the way down from the house to the Club and he had his arms round my neck the whole way. He made funny little sounds in my ear, you know, as though he was kind of enjoying himself! ... Gee, he’s a great baby!”