But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. Here goes. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. The key is in my trousers. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. Considering how little he lets her have. You have grown into my life. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking.
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