"Eileen is a most sophisticated young lady.

If she saw you, she never in this world, thought you were a mechanic sent from a garage presenting yourself at our front door." "There might have been a spark of malice in the big blue-gray I eyes that carefully appraised me," said Donald.
"Your choice of words is good," said Linda, refilling the punch glass.
"'Appraise' fits Eileen like her glove.

She appraises every thing on a monetary basis, and when she can't figure that it's going to be worth an appreciable number of dollars and cents to her--'to the garage wid it,' as Katy would say." When they had finished their lunch Linda began packing the box and Donald sat watching her.
"At this point," said Linda, "Daddy always smoked.

Do you smoke ?" There was a hint of deeper color in the boy's cheeks.
"I did smoke an occasional cigarette," he said lightly, "up to the day, not a thousand years ago, when a very emphatic young lady who should have known, insinuated that it was bad for the nerves, and going on the presumption that she knew, I haven't smoked a cigarette since and I'm not going to until I find out whether I can do better work without them." Linda folded napkins and packed away accessories thoughtfully.

Then she looked into the boy's eyes.
"Now we reach the point of our being here together," she said.