“Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. It was Celeste’s idea. For the rest, she derived her ideas of the married state from the observed behavior of married women, which impressed her in Morningside Park as being tied and dull and inelastic in comparison with the life of the young, and from a remarkably various reading among books. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere.
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