But later, when he had imbibed the delicious concoction Harold had made, and had eaten the dinner created by that Japanese artist of theirs, his irritation subsided.
"They barely know we're here," he thought.

"They're both in love up to their ears." Despite their genial attempts to be hospitable and friendly, time and again he saw their glances meet in an intimate gleaming manner which made him rather uncomfortable.

But where was the harm, he asked himself.

They were married all right, weren't they?
Still somehow--somehow--no, by George, he didn't like it, he didn't approve! The whole affair was decidedly mixing.
Roger went away vaguely uneasy, and he felt that Deborah was even more disturbed than himself.
"Those two," she remarked to her father, "are so fearfully wrapt up in each other it makes me afraid.

Oh, it's all right, I suppose, and I wouldn't for worlds try to interfere.