’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Come home alone. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. I'll try the effect of a jolly stave. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. I went at last when I had barely a shilling in my purse to a dramatic agent. “No!” Her thoughts had turned in a new direction. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames.
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