After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. “You need have no further trouble. So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Mike had suffered severe depression in his first years with the Becks, but had grown to think of them as his natural family to the degree that his past seemed like a distant memory. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. But it's French manners, I suppose. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. Besides, he was a Yale man.
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