"I don't believe it."
"Of course you don't. But he has."
"Who?"
"Delight. She's exactly the sort he thinks you'll need. He still thinks
you are a little boy, Graham, so he picks out a nice little girl for
you. Such a nice little girl."
The amused contempt in her voice made him angry--for Delight rather
than himself. He was extremely grown-up and dignified the rest of the
afternoon; he stood very tall and straight, and spoke in his deepest
voice.
It became rather an obsession in him to prove his manhood, and added
to that was the effect of Marion's constant, insidious appeal to the
surging blood of his youth. And, day after day, he was shut in his
office with Anna Klein.
He thought he was madly in love with Marion. He knew that he was not
at all in love with Anna Klein. But she helped to relieve the office
tedium.
He was often aware, sitting at his desk, with Anna before him, notebook
in hand, that while he read his letters her eyes were on him. More
than once he met them, and there was something in them that healed his
wounded vanity. He was a man to her. He was indeed almost a god, but
that he did not know. In his present frame of mind, he would have
accepted even that, however.
Then, one day he kissed her. She was standing very close, and the
impulse was quick and irresistible. She made no effort to leave his
arms, and he kissed her again.
"Like me a little, do you?" he had asked, smiling into her eyes.
"Oh, I do, I do!" she had replied, hoarsely.
It was almost an exact reversal of his relationship with Marion. There
the huskiness was his, the triumphant smile was Marion's. And the
feeling of being adored without stint or reservation warmed him.
He released her then, but their relationship had taken on a new phase.
He would stand against the outer door, to prevent its sudden opening.
And she would walk toward him, frightened and helpless until his arms
closed about her. It was entirely a game to him. There were days, when
Marion was trying, or the work of his department was nagging him, when
he scarcely noticed her at all. But again the mischief in him, the
idler, the newly awakened hunting male, took him to her with arms
outheld and the look of triumph in his eyes that she mistook for love.
On one such occasion Joey came near to surprising a situation, so near
that his sophisticated young mind guessed rather more than the truth. He
went out, whistling.