He
shoved back his chair, and got up. Then he kissed his mother lightly
and came out the side door, whistling. I looked up, closed the
directory, snapped the lock on my note-book, and took the pencil out of
my mouth. I said, 'Hello, Danny.' Then I shoved the books behind me.
"'Hello, Connie.--No, I wouldn't invite Fred Arnold if I were you. It
would just encourage him to try, try again, and it would mean an
additional wound in the heart for him. Leave him out.'
"I frowned at him. 'I am not doing a party,' I said coldly.
"'No? Then why the directory? You are not reading it for amusement,
are you? You are not--'
"'Never mind, Dan. It is my directory, and if I wish to look up my
friends--'
"'Look up your friends!' Dan was plainly puzzled. 'None of my
business, of course, but it is a queer notion. And why the tablet?
Are you taking notes?' He reached for the notebook with the easy
familiarity that people use when they have known you all your life. I
shoved it away and flushed a little. I can flush at a second's notice,
Carol. It is very effective in a crisis. I'll teach you, if you like.
It only requires a little imagination."
Carol hugged her knees and beamed at Connie. "Go on," she begged.
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