"Rodney was so funny
about her. _He_ was worried, I could see that. And he means the best in
the world, the dear. But he could be a dreadful brute, just in his
simplicity. Oh, I know! He and I were always rather special pals--more
than Harriet. But no man ever learned less from his sisters,--about
women, I mean. He's always been so big and healthy and even-minded, you
couldn't tell him anything, except what you could print right out in
black and white. So when you were feeling edgy and blue and miserable
you either kept out of his way or kept your troubles to yourself. He was
always easy to fool--there was that about it. If you wiped your eyes and
blew your nose, he always thought you had a cold. Which is all very nice
about a brother; but in a husband ..."
Something that Eleanor did with her shoulders, the way she blew out her
smoke and twisted her mouth around, caught Frederica's eye. "What did
you mean by that?" she asked. "Oh, I know you didn't say anything."
Eleanor got up restlessly, squared the cushions on her _chaise longue_,
tapped her cigarette ash into a receiver and said that Rose was happy
enough now, anyway, if looks were anything to go by; hesitated again,
and finally answered Frederica's question.
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