"Gee!" he exclaimed, turning restlessly in
his pacing walk.
He was aware that some one in the room moved. "Jermain," said his
stepmother's faint voice. He looked at her smiling. "Hello, Momma," he
said good-naturedly, "when did _you_ gum-shoe in?"
"Oh, just now," she told him, giving him an assurance which he
doubted, and which he would not have valued had he known it to
be true. He was perfectly indifferent as to the chance that this
negligible person might have been a spectator to the scene between the
son of the house and a guest. If she said anything about it, he meant
to give the all-sufficing explanation that he and Miss Marshall had
just become engaged. This would of course, it seemed self-evident to
him, make it all right.
But Mrs. Fiske did not make any remark calling forth that information.
She only said, in her usual listless manner, "Your sleeve is shoved
up."
He glanced down in surprise, realizing how excited he must be not to
have noticed that before, and remained for a moment silent, looking at
the splendidly muscular white arm, and the large well-manicured
hand. He was feeling in every nerve the reminiscence of the yielding
firmness of Sylvia's flesh, bare against his own. The color came up
flamingly into his face again. He moistened his lips with his tongue.
"Jesus _Christ_!" he exclaimed, contemptuously careless of his
listener, "I'm wild in love with that girl!" He pulled his sleeve down
with a quick, vigorous gesture, deftly shot the cuff out beyond the
black broadcloth, and, the picture of handsome, well-groomed youth in
easy circumstances, turned again to his father's wife.
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