The Wastrel did not relish this. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “But you’re dating Mike now, and I’m dating John. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. ” “I met you accidentally,” he reminded her.
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