“I don’t enjoy them,” she said. “I don’t like to have my friends talk to me like that.”
“What do you do to young men who propose to you?”
“They don’t—I don’t want to talk about it. It breaks off friendships when things get that way.”
It struck her as a happy and tender warning and she looked at him as who should say, “I hope you understand that, once for all.”’ Tommy did.
“Oh, very good-"
Then Tommy began to speak of opera.
As he left Dorothy at 137 West 88th Street, he observed that it was a good thing that he wasn’t one of the young men who had proposed to her. But would she care to see that movie again—at some other theatre?
“I've had a lovely time tonight, Tommy. Ring me up sometime.”
“We can make it now, if you like.”
No! He might take it as a hopeful symptom.
“You'd better ring me up. Then I’ll have my datebook. Thank you so much.”
He shook her hand.
“Good night—and best luck in your singing.”
She withdrew her hand.
“Thank you so much, Tommy. Good night.”
“See you again soon—yes?”
She smiled.
Tommy blew her a kiss.
“Good night.”
Perhaps she had treated him badly. He had done much for her—and she might have let him at least hold her hand in return. But he didn’t appeal to her. She liked him in the way that she liked a well-cooked meal, but as for anything serious-! She tried to think of Tommy as her husband-ugh! And he would be a
[97]
