I know. Most of them have to move fast to
keep up with the rent."
"I don't mean houses," he explained, patiently. "I mean-- A house
isn't a home."
"You bet it isn't."
"It's the families I'm talking about. In a small town you know all
about people, who they live with, and all that." He was laboriously
talking down to her. "But here--"
He saw that she was not interested. Something he had said started
an unpleasant train of thought in her mind. She was walking faster,
and frowning slightly. To cheer her he said:
"I am keeping an eye out for the large young man in the sack suit,
you know. If he jumps me, just yell for the police, will you?
Because I'll probably not be able to."
"I wish you'd let me forget him."
"I will. The question is, will he?" But he saw that the subject
was unpleasant.
"We'll have to do this again. It's been mighty nice of you to come."
"You'll have to ask me, the next time."
"I certainly will. But I think I'd better let your family look me
over first, just so they'll know that I don't customarily steal
the silver spoons when I'm asked out to dinner. Or anything like
that."
"We're just--folks.
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