Mentally
she was always moving about, quietly, light-footedly, just as she had
done among the bricks and rubble of their old playground, peering
thoughtfully at things which nobody else saw or looking at them from
some new point of view. You couldn't be sure what they were or why
they interested her. And now--he had almost seen her do it--she had
shifted her position, come over to Connie Edward's side, and was gazing
over her shoulder, with her own brown head tilted a little on one ear,
and was saying in Connie's vernacular:
"Well, so that's how it looks to you? And, I say, you're right. It's
a scream----"
In her mysterious way she had found something she liked in Connie
Edwards, with her awful hat and her outrageous, three-inch heels and
her common prettiness. Cosgrave obviously was crazy about her. He
seemed to cling to her because she had an insatiable hunger for the
things he couldn't afford. One could see that he had tried to model
himself to her taste. He wore a gardenia and a spotted tie. And,
bearing these insignia of vulgarity, he looked more than ever pathetic
and over-delicate.
Cosgrave was an idiot who had lost his balance. But Francey was
another matter. The Francey who had asked "And are you a good little
boy?" accepted Connie Edwards without question. Because it was
ridiculous to be hurt about it Robert grew angry with her and frowned
away from her, and talked to Mr. Ricardo as though there were no one
else in the room.
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