streets of the great city wrapped in sea-green sik? You might be misunderstood."
"I've had hundreds of little boys following me for blocks. That's your last pair of curtains, Christabel. Hlere's a pot of carnations, my dear. Did you think you could get them in pots outside of Italy? Put it here by the Della Robbia Look, please look at Boyd's expression of suffering! I suppose we seem very old-fashioned and sentimental to her. And, my dears, look at this old copper tray I got from a Russian Jew in Allen Street! You'll always have to sit so that it comes behind your head, like a halo—look! Sweet Saint Christabel!"
"What's in this?"
"Dear Boyd, you're so curious. Cherry tarts, in hopes Christabel will ask me to stay to tea."
"Oh, I do! I ask you both!"
"Can't, thanks. 'By, children."
"How brusque Boyd is," Gobby observed, unwinding a huge pale-blue muffler. "Have
