He gave her facile masculine advice.  She was to put off her mother’s stay.  She was to tell Carrie to go to the deuce.  For these valuable revelations she thanked him, and they ambled into the familiar gossip of the Bunch.  Of what a sentimental fool was Carrie.  Of what a lazy brat was Pete.  Of how nice Fulton Bemis could be—­“course lots of people think he’s a regular old grouch when they meet him because he doesn’t give ’em the glad hand the first crack out of the box, but when they get to know him, he’s a corker.”

But as they had gone conscientiously through each of these analyses before, the conversation staggered.  Babbitt tried to be intellectual and deal with General Topics.  He said some thoroughly sound things about Disarmament, and broad-mindedness and liberalism; but it seemed to him that General Topics interested Tanis only when she could apply them to Pete, Carrie, or themselves.  He was distressingly conscious of their silence.  He tried to stir her into chattering again, but silence rose like a gray presence and hovered between them.

“I, uh—­” he labored.  “It strikes me—­it strikes me that unemployment is lessening.”

“Maybe Pete will get a decent job, then.”

Silence.

Desperately he essayed, “What’s the trouble, old honey?  You seem kind of quiet to-night.”

“Am I?  Oh, I’m not.  But—­do you really care whether I am or not?”

“Care?  Sure!  Course I do!”

“Do you really?” She swooped on him, sat on the arm of his chair.

He hated the emotional drain of having to appear fond of her.  He stroked her hand, smiled up at her dutifully, and sank back.

“George, I wonder if you really like me at all?”

“Course I do, silly.”

“Do you really, precious?  Do you care a bit?”

“Why certainly!  You don’t suppose I’d be here if I didn’t!”

“Now see here, young man, I won’t have you speaking to me in that huffy way!”

“I didn’t mean to sound huffy.  I just—­” In injured and rather childish tones:  “Gosh almighty, it makes me tired the way everybody says I sound huffy when I just talk natural!  Do they expect me to sing it or something?”

“Who do you mean by ‘everybody’?  How many other ladies have you been consoling?”

“Look here now, I won’t have this hinting!”

Humbly:  “I know, dear.  I was only teasing.  I know it didn’t mean to talk huffy—­it was just tired.  Forgive bad Tanis.  But say you love me, say it!”

“I love you....  Course I do.”

“Yes, you do!” cynically.  “Oh, darling, I don’t mean to be rude but—­I get so lonely.  I feel so useless.  Nobody needs me, nothing I can do for anybody.  And you know, dear, I’m so active—­I could be if there was something to do.  And I am young, aren’t I!  I’m not an old thing!  I’m not old and stupid, am I?”