"A howling one—with father. He's so young now he shouldn't be married, legally, not having his parents' consent. He ought to go back and start over at Andover Academy; in about four years, he'll be ready for Yale once more. Young? We're the old men, Ken and me, Steve! He's sure he's just fifteen; well, he surely acts it."
After this, I felt I could inquire, without seeming too personal, "How's he getting along with his new wife?"
Fred jumped. "Good God! He hasn't married again since yesterday morning? I saw him then and"
"No," I said. "I meant Shirley Fendon."
"Oh, you call her new?" Fred comprehended my peculiar point of view. "He's had her going on three months now."
"There's trouble between them?" I persisted.
"Of course," said Fred, "being twenty-two, she's a little old for him, but they do bunny-dip beautifully together."
"Who was she?" I kept after Fred.
"Who? Shirley? Why, you just said her name; Shirley Fendon she was."
"Wasn't that just her cabaret name?" I inquired.
