She had spent the evening out without previous intent; the
next step was to feel that her soul was her own on her return. She
unlocked the forks, Evan unpacked the upstairs ice-chest for the dog's
head bass that wise women always have when they expect visiting
Englishmen, even though they are transplanted and acclimated ones, and
she ate the oysters, still steaming from their original package, with
great satisfaction. After we had finished Miss Lavinia bravely declared
her independence of Lucy. The happy don't-care feeling produced by
broiled oysters and bass on a cold night is a perfect revelation to
people used to after-theatre suppers composed of complications, sticky
sweets, and champagne.
When we had finished I thought for a moment that she showed a desire to
conceal the invasion by washing the dishes, but she put it aside, and we
all went upstairs together.
A little shopping being in order, Evan took himself off in the morning,
leaving Miss Lavinia and me to prowl, after we had promised to meet him
at a downtown restaurant at one.
Little boys are delightful things to shop for,--there is no matching this
and that, no getting a yard too much or too little, everything is
substantial and straight away, and all you have to do when the bundles
are sent home by express is to strengthen the sewing on of buttons and
reinforce the seats and knees of everyday pantikins from the inside.
We strolled about slowly, and at half past one were quite ready to sit
still and not only eat our lunch but watch business mankind eat his.
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